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"AND SHE WAS GLADYS, THE ANGEL OF THE GOOD” PAGE 288. 


















































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GLADYS 


The Angel of the Good 


BY 

J. R. SMITH, M. D. 

AUTHOR OF THE AUTO-CHRIST 


PRESS OF 

JEWELL PUBLISHING CO, 
SPRINGFIELD, MO. 
1909 




0 


COPYRIGHTED 

BY 


DR. J. R. SMITH 
1900 

All rights reserved 


* 4^606 

« < 

C C i 


< , * 


MY DAUGHTERS: 

KENYON IDA 

At three years of age she went to live with the Angels 
MRS. GRACE K. COOPER 
MRS. CHARLOTTE E. PADDOCK 
MRS. CLARA E. I. STEICHEN 

MY GRANDDAUGHTERS: 

MISS DOROTHY Y. SMITH 
Daughter of Capt. E. V. Smith , U. S. Army 

MISSES MARY RUTH AND ELIZABETH FEARN COOPER 
MISSES MARY AND CHARLOTTE STEICHEN 

IN MEMORY OF THE DEAD 
IN LOVE FOR THE LIVING 




PREFACE. 


I have tried to tell you how I THINK a Christian should 
live. I have tried to tell you how I KNOW a Christian 
can die. 

The instances given illustrating some psychical phases 
of death came under my own observation, or were related 
to me by persons whom I know to be trustworthy and in- 
telligent observers. 

Maj. Galloway and David Smith are real persons. The 
former is still living, having passed his fourscore years. 
In 1864 he told me the story, as related, of the Toas gold 
mine, but the finding of it is fiction. He now lives eight 
miles south of Springfield, Mo. The latter has been dead 
fifty-nine years. The story of his Leviathan horses is not 
fiction. 

The story is principally placed between Springfield, Mis- 
souri, and Fort Smith, Arkansas. With a daughter’s grave 
at the former place and a brother’s at the latter, I stand 
between them, on sacred ground, 

‘‘Only waiting till the shadows 
Are a little longer grown.” 

I believe in a laughing, happy Christianity, especially 
for the young, yet tears, perforce, will come. But the 
Christian is all the better for these tears, if he constantly 
remembers that the lowly and lovely Gallilean “wept that 
we might weep,” for ourselves, and others, when sorrows 
wring our hearts too sorely. 

“In Heaven above no sin is found 
And there’s no weeping there.” 

Kent, Mo. J. Ri. S. 


CHAPTER I. 


All the world over, I wonder, in lands that I never have trod, 
Are the people eternally seeking for the signs and the steps of a 
God? 

Westward across the ocean, and northward ayont the snow, 

Do they all stand gazing as ever; and what do the wisest know? 

—Sir Alfred C. 'Lyall. 

“Dat chap what’s bin a shinin’ ’roun’ young Missus 
ain ’t as smart as she is, by a whole heap. Ole as I is, I kin 
see fru dat queschin myse’f. Now, dar is dat young hen, 
what I fotch down to de cabin when she was a leetle bit ob 
a chick. She nebber seed a nes’ in her life, an’ no udder 
chicken was here to tell her how to make wun at all. But 
she knowed she’s gwine to need a nes’, an’ de Lawd mus’ 
a put it in her min’ jis’ how, when an’ why. An’ if He 
done dat wid de hen, why hain’t he put it into our hearts 
dat we’d want a cozy leetle nes’ ober dar whar de po’ 
leetle ones hab gone? An’ sides dat, tole us how to build 
it, out o’ kin’ leetle doin’s to one ’nother here. Yes, yes, 
dat’s de way ’tis. De ol’ cow wants de grass, an’ it’s 
p’ovided fo’ her afore han’. De fish wants de warter to 
swim in, an’ de birds de a’r to fly in, an’ da all p’ovided. 
An’ we wants in our ol’ hearts to see de leetle picaninnies 
ag’in who died long time ago. An’ young Missus wants to 
see her ol ’ f adder an ’ mudder who is alyin ’ out dar in de 
groun’, an’ her wants ’ll sho’ be p’ovided fo’ in de Lawd’s 


8 


GLADYS 


own good time. Dat young marster got to Tarn a sad 
lessin, an’ shed some tears, den he’ll know it as well as I 
does.” 

“What are you talking about, Auntie?” asked the 
young “Missus” referred to by the old colored woman in 
the foregoing sililoquy. 

“0 I’s jis splanifyin’ to myse’f, honey. Nebber yo’ 
min’. Yo’s all right.” 

“I don’t know, Auntie, whether I am all right or not. I 
would like to be all right, and know it. Then I would be 
satisfied, but as it is, I am somewhat in doubt about some 
things. ’ ’ 

“Now, honey, what yo’ doubtin’ ’bout?” 

“Why, Dr. Greydone seems convinced that if we respect 
the rights of others and abstain from immoral practices 
we will be all right, here and hereafter — if there should be 
a hereafter — and any rule of action not placed on us by 
reason or moral obligation should give us no worry or con- 
cern. So, if a rule, like that calling us to church on Sun- 
day or demanding the observance of the Lord ’s supper, be 
neglected, or entirely ignored, there is no sin. We would 
be just as well off without all this as with it, were it not 
that we somewhat jar society by our singularity.” 

“Mars Greydone better be keerful how he splains dese 
things or he work hisse’f trouble an’ sorrow when he git 
ol’ lak me. S’pose my boy George been raised dat way. 
I was alius po’ an’ hard run, an’ he nebber had any good 
house an’ fine close. Well, he go to Joplin an’ dig a lead 
mine an’ git rich. He under no oblargations, mo’ ’an a 
few hundred dollars fo’ his raising’, and whar’s he boun’ 
to give me any mo’ ’an I give him? Dat is jestis. Mo’ ’an 


GLADYS 


9 


dat is sumthin’ else. It true I’m his mudder, but fo’ why 
should he he ’p his mudder, mo ’ ’an she hope him ? I mean 
whar’s de reason fo’ it, or de morals, as yo’ calls it? Ah, 
chile, dar is some words in de Bible dat reason an’ right 
an’ wrong knows nothin’ about. An’ yit dese words am 
de very cords dat bin’ de worl’ together as brothers an’ 
sisters an’ make us happy here an’ hopeful for de here- 
after. Charity an’ love an’ kindness ar’ some of dese 
words, an’ obedience to de Lawd am anoder. He may 
want us to obey Him fo’ our good, in ways dat we can’t 
see no reason or right in. An ’ yit He is so much above us 
dat He can an’ does see de reason an’ de right of it. Yo’ 
papa an’ mamma, when yo’ was a chile, had to do lots ob 
things dat you’ could see no reason an’ right in, an’ some- 
times yo’ disobeyed dem; but now yo’ wish yo’ hadn’t. 
Maybe it’s So wid de Lawd’s chillun. An’ maybe Mars 
Greydone sometime will weep an ’ wish he ’d done what de 
Lawd tole him. An maybe it’ll be too late to weep an’ 
wish. ’ ’ 

“I guess you are right, Auntie. Parents know better 
than their children, and the Lord undoubtedly knows bet- 
ter than the parents. So, I judge the best thing to do is 
to find out just what the Lord wants done and do it with- 
out question or delay.” 

And she passed out of the kitchen, but paused as she 
heard Auntie, in a subdued voice, somewhat quavering 
with age, singing as she tidied up the room after dinner. 
The oddity of the song, with its African “native wood 
note wild,” held the girl to its close. And this was what 
she heard: 


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GLADYS 


I. 

“O, Dan’el, I’ll meet yo’ whar de thistle don’t grow, 

Whar de col’ bias’ neber mo’ shall freeze us, 

Whar de sweet angel eye ober sees us, 

An’ de mornin’ glory blossoms ebermo.’ 

CHORUS. 

Den sing, fo’ de work am all done, 

An’ de grey ha’rs ar’ restin’ in de mornin’; 

An’ de blessed han’ of Jesus, 

Am come to release us; 

An’ de frien’s ar’ stan’in’ by. 

An’ de chillun playin’ nigh; 

Fo’ in Heaben we ar’ baskin’ in de glory ob de smiles ob Jesus. 

II. 

An’ our leetle gal dat lies dar in de groun’ 

Will laugh when she sees us a cummin, 

An’ her leetle feet’ll play a chune a hummin,’ 

While de angels cut de pigeon wing aroun’. 

III. 

Mars Jesus has done laid by de cotton an’ de corn, 

An’ de jubilation glory am a ringing’; 

An’ de leetle ones foreber will be singin’, 

In de brightness ob de eberlastin’ morn.” 

Aunt Alice was raised a slave in the State of Kentucky. 
In childhood and youth she had heard Raccoon John Smith, 
A. Campbell and others of the days when men and women 
began to break from the dictum of the clergy and think 
for themselves. Her master, George Raymond, who was a 
conscientious Christian man, had cheerfully permitted her 
the right and privilege of attending church as she de- 
sired, and her young mistress had taught her to read and 


GLADYS 


11 


write, to a degree. George Raymond had concluded to 
make a trial for the bettering of his finances, and the re- 
sult was that he purchased a fine tract of land in Wash- 
ington County, Arkansas, some miles southwest of Fay- 
etteville. To this farm he came with his family, servants 
and live stock in 1855, when his daughter, Daphne, the 
young lady above mentioned, was a wee infant. The 
father dying in 1861, Daphne was left to the care of an 
invalid mother and the ever-watchful and sympathetic 
Aunt Alice. 

During the years of his life spent in the Arkansas home 
Mr. Raymond was a regular attendant at church in Fay- 
etteville, and, as a consequence, he became acquainted with 
Prof. Robert Graham, Albert Pike, J. W. Thornmorton, 
Stephen K. Stone, E. C. Boudenot, Stirman* & Dixon, mer- 
chants, and i^iany others of prominence. These men often 
visited with Mr. Raymond, as did the preachers also, who 
occasionally paid their respects to the college founded by 
Mr. Graham, who was its eminent professor. Among these 
preachers was Charles Carlton, well known as an educator 
and man of letters, whose home was at Springfield, Mis- 
souri. All those mentioned were men of more than ordi- 
nary intelligence and culture. 

Aunt Alice, who was maid of all work, was thus often a 
listener, nolens volens, to the social, religious and political 
discussions which occurred at her master’s home. In the 


*Mrs, Catharine Stirman, of Fayetteville, Ark., died in November, 1900. Hers 
was a wonderful life of charity and love and good works. Only the Master knows 
how her motherly heart went out in kind deeds and sympathy to frail, suffering hu- 
manity. As to Dr. Graham, who died in January, 1901, the world knows he was an 
apostle of pure speeeh, a pure life and a pure and undefiled religion. He was a 
scholar and an educator of high degree and an orator of great parts. Elder Ragland, 
for twenty years pastor of the church at Fayetteville, preached the memorial sermon 
of Dr. Graham and the funeral sermon of Mrs. Stirman. 


12 


GLADYS 


course of this desultory and accidental training, her mind, 
while it had not visibly broken from its youthful idioms 
and racial heritages, was measurably freed from the fan- 
tastic superstitions and theological whims alike of her 
early associations and later mystical spiritual instructions, 
and into its lowly methods of thought had been ground by 
the attrition of these strong minds the basic elements of 
all human happiness — strong love of truth for truth’s 
sake, and a quick perception of the fitness of things — 
commonly known as common sense. Her language had 
broadened somewhat, but had not kept equal pace in pol- 
ish : hence her words ran riot through provincialisms and 
dialectic grooves, and on all occasions sparkled with Ethi- 
opic linguisms and bristled with southern fervor, tempered 
with southern love and hospitality. She was a terror to 
evil-doers and an uncompromising enemy to pharisaism in 
all its forms. Freed by the success of the Union forces, 
she was yet the willing slave of her young mistress, 
Daphne Raymond, whose father had left the “dark and 
bloody ground” for a freer life in the Boston Mountains. 

At the time when our story properly commences, Daphne 
was turned of eighteen years of age, and was an orphan, 
her mother dying only a month subsequent to the daugh- 
ter’s graduation at Lexington, Kentucky, where, true to 
her southern instincts, she had spent several years as a 
student in those schools which have made for that state a 
reputation equal to that made by Bethany for Virginia. 

The young girl’s moral nature had been made quite 
strong by a life-long association with Aunt Alice. And 
while an absolute standard of right, ethically considered, 
had never been demonstrated to her mind, she had turned 


GLADYS 


13 


from that cold philosophy which tended to “freeze the 
genial currents of the soul” to the more heart-satisfying 
plea of the crucified One, as the pilgrim turns to the 
‘ ‘ shadow of a great rock in a weary land. ’ ’ And yet there 
were with her at times seasons of unrest, almost bordering 
on doubt. When thus troubled, the quaint songs and 
quainter philosophy of her gray-headed old nurse were 
like the morning dew bath to the drooping rose: the re- 
viving blooms of faith and hope filled her atmosphere 
with an odor vying with that of the winds blowing “soft 
o’er Ceylon’s Isle,” and she would softly repeat to her- 
self the words of the Psalmist, “I shall be satisfied when 
I awake in thy likeness.” 

Thorwald Greydone, like herself, was an orphan, twelve 
years her senior. His battle with life, so far, had been a 
hard and bitter one on account of false friends. Born in 
the state of New York, of wealthy parents, he had gradu- 
ated at Yale, and when left alone at twenty-three years of 
age he chose the medical profession as a business. After 
a term each in London and Paris he went to Berlin. Here 
the cosmogony of Kant, in philosophy, and the Tubingen 
school of theology occupied all the time not taken up by 
medical lectures and hospital clinics. The result of all this 
was a doubly frozen cynicism, which gave but little prom- 
ise of agapaic fruit. Yet he was not immoral, and the 
licentiousness of Hobbes and the anarchism of Bachunen 
had no hold on him. Love for his mother, who in life was 
a deeply religious woman, held him with strong bonds in 
the royal road of purity and moral rectitude. The social 
instinct in his spiritual being was quite prominent. Re- 
flecting on the awful problem of the hereafter, he said to 


14 


GLADYS 


himself: “Should I marry and be blessed with children I 
will, in the course of nature, be taken from them. I would 
love to be with them forever. I doubt not that my father 
and mother had these same longing reflections. They loved 
me, as I certainly should love had I children. Then, if I 
marry a good, dear woman, she will love me, and I shall 
love her. Shall we at death part forever? Shall our 
bodies and what we conceive to be our souls be scattered 
and commingled and lost as identities with the dust and 
energies and forces that flash and play around us like fire- 
flies in the midnight gloom? I cannot think it. Yet, 
where is the evidence that it shall not be thus?” Then 
came the cry from his longing, loving heart: “0 Daphne, 
should you give your pure soul to be my solace for the 
few years of my life on earth, shall I be compelled by the 
blind, unpitying forces inherent in matter to stand and see 
you float out into the night of eternal nothingness?” It 
was love ’s threnody of despair, extorted by a pitiless phil- 
osophy. This has been the longing, questioning wail of a 
loving, sin-cursed earth throughout all time, and the resur- 
rection of Jesus has been the single and only negative 
vouchsafed to weeping mortals. 


CHAPTER II. 


One can never repeat too often that Reason, as it exists in man, 
is only an intellectual eye, and that, like the eye, to see it needs 
light; to see clearly and far it needs the light of Heaven. 

— Hare, Genesis of Truth. 

Daphne passed out of the hall where she had listened to 
Aunt Alice’s solo, donned riding hat and habit, mounted a 
beautiful strawberry roan Choctaw pony, and went skim- 
ming on the road to Fayetteville. At a point near where 
her way crossed a noisy little brook her bridle path en- 
tered the old overland or wire road which led from Fay- 
etteville across the mountain to Van Buren. As she rode 
into the broad highway her ear caught the clatter of 
horse ’s hoofs. The rider came around a curve in the road 
at a brisk gallop and accosted the young girl with a 
hearty : 

‘ ‘ Good afternoon, Miss Daphne. Quo vadis, this beauti- 
ful day?” 

“Only to town for some medicine for the Widow Mor- 
an ’s little girl. ’ ’ 

“Is she seriously ill?” 

“Quite seriously, so the doctor says.” 

“What is her ailment?” 

“Scarlet fever, I believe.” 

Dr. Greydone, for he it was, said, as they rode leisurely 
along : 


16 


GLADYS 


“Miss Daphne, I am going to town on a little matter of 
business, which will be transacted in a very few minutes, 
even while the prescription is being compounded, and, 
while nothing would give me more pleasure than your 
company such a bright spring day as this, I can attend to 
your errand without trouble, and will, if you wish, save 
you the exhaustion of this ride.” 

“I heartily thank you, Dr. Greydone ; but I have been in 
the house all morning, and the ride will do me good. Be- 
sides, there are some other little purchases I wish to make. 
Aunt Alice is, with this spring weather, rather rheumatic. 
She wants some lemons and a few apples to eat. She says 
lemonade and Arkansas apples will cure all sorts of rheu- 
matism. ’ ’ 

“Will you accept of my company to town?” she added 
archly, after a moment’s pause. 

“0, do not ask me — or, rather, keep on repeating the 
question, so that I may be forever saying, ‘Yes, with all 
my heart.’ ” 

“I fear,” she replied, “that you would soon tire of the 
question, the questioner and the company.” 

He silently rode on for a few minutes, then said seri- 
ously : 

“Miss Daphne, I do not know if I ever would tire of 
your questions or your company. I don’t now think I 
would. But I might. We are such changeable creatures. 
I could not conceive of your changing — for the worse, at 
least. It seems that there is some strong force that binds 
you to the good, the true and the beautiful, so that to 
break from these would annihilate them and your indi- 
vidual identity in the same breath. But as for myself I 



DAPHNE RAYMOND-page 15. 
















































































































































GLADYS 


17 


am not so certain. I try to, and sometimes I do, do good. 
But I may change, for I feel that there is no bond except 
the abstract notion of right that holds me to the path of 
rectitude. And how do I know that my abstract notion of 
right is inerrant? If I should reason myself into the con- 
viction that right, per se, is not that which I have con- 
ceived it to be, but an entirely different condition to my 
present notion of it, intellectual honor would compel a 
readjustment of conviction. And so, the changing, de- 
pending on my reason, might be endless, or at least last as 
long as intelligence with me lasted. Mr. Campbell, in his 
debate with Robert Owen, said: ‘Hobbes reasoned him- 
self into a perfect conviction that there was no such thing 
as right and wrong — that there was no moral difference 
in actions.’ I don’t think now that I could so conclude. 
But having nothing to guide but errant Reason, where may 
I not wander? But now I have tired you,” he added re- 
gretfully. 

“No, you have not tired me. But you have admitted the 
errancy of Reason when not guided by some mentor abso- 
lutely incapable of obliquity. But I must stop at this cabin 
a moment . There is a sick woman who may need some- 
thing.” 

“I will go in with you, if it is proper to do so,” he said, 
as he assissted her from her pony. 

“Glad to have you. It is perfectly proper.” 

He was in a frame of mind to try his moral philosophy 
by any rule that might offer. Might he not find some kind 
of a rule in a lowly cabin ? He would see. 

On entering, the poor, emaciated, sick one seemed star- 
tled, and feebly asked them to be seated. A young girl, 


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GLAD VS 


but little advanced of fifteen years, stood by the mother’s 
bedside, and but for the anxious and drawn expression on 
her face she would have been a being of almost angelic 
beauty. Her stature was a little below the medium of her 
age. Her form was that of the healthy, sprightly fawn. 
Her eyes were brown, large, and reminded one of those 
deep pools found rarely in covert glens where autumn’s 
sunrays picture the sober russet of the overhanging foli- 
age in kaleidoscopic images of endless succession. The 
depths of her eyes were immeasureable, and yet their soul 
expression was transparent as the morning dewdrop. Her 
face was an oval, whose lines bounded the purest type of 
beauty. To attempt to describe her hair would be like an 
effort to paint the changing and lifting glories of an 
autumn sunset as viewed from her own mountain home. 
Innumerable nut-brown curls, in laughing contention, 
played at hide-and-seek over a brow white as alabaster 
and royal as Minerva ’s, whereon the wisdom of peace was 
personified in the olive, the owl and the serpent. Her 
voice came like the tones of an Aeolean harp, over lips 
which smiled as the bursting rosebud in June. Her edu- 
cation, so far as it went, had been obtained at the public 
schools which she had attended from her childhood. In 
this way she had become remarkably proficient in the ele- 
mentary studies as usually taught. Beside this, she had 
borrowed and carefully read a great many useful and val- 
uable books, which added to her store of knowledge not a 
little. Her mother, a woman of a clear and good mind, had 
supervised this desultory reading to the best of her ability, 
and by tact and an affectionate tutelage she lead her 
daughter to a loving study of the old family Bible as the 


GLADYS 


19 


best of all sources of helpful knowledge. Such was this 
nymph of the wildwood — this hybrid of the white violet 
and the innocent daisy — Gladys Gordon, who, with break- 
ing heart, was trying heart and soul to smooth the path 
way for a loved mother to a nearby grave. 

When enquiries had been made as to Mrs. Gordon’s 
health, and hopes expressed that with the now settled 
warm weather she would soon be convalescent, Daphne 
said : 

“Mrs. Gordon, Aunt Alice had such good coffee this 
morning for breakfast that I thought you and Gladys 
would enjoy a cup of the same. So I brought you a little, 
as I was going to town anyway. I hope you will relish it. ” 

“0 Miss Raymond! I can’t take it after I talked so 
rude of you and called you a heartless girl. No ! no ! Give 
it to some one else. I can’t take it, indeed I can’t!” 

“Mrs. Gordon, please do not feel that way. I was to 
blame that day. I was careless, and in a gleeful, selfish 
humor I made too much noise, not thinking how your 
nerves were unstrung and how your poor head ached. 
Now, dear, don’t think any more about this.” 

She said this coaxingly, then turning to the girl said 
cheerfully : 

“Gladys, have you any hot water on the stove? I’ll 
make your dear mother a cup myself. I can make good 
coffee. Aunt Alice taught me, and she knows.” 

With this she passed with Gladys into the lean-to, used 
as a cook-room. The coffee was brought in, sugar and 
cream added from Daphne’s hand basket, and the woman 
took the cup in her thin trembling hands. With tears she 
said simply and faintly: 


20 


GLADYS 


‘ ‘ I thank you. I pray God that your life may be a hap- 
pier one than mine has been.” 

“You will be happy over yonder, Mrs. Gordon. Gladys, 
dear, drink a cup yourself. You look wearied, and it will 
help you. Poor child! You have had all you can bear. I 
will send a good, kind woman to stay with and help you, 
so that you may rest. We must go now. Good-bye. Try 
and get some rest. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Good-bye, and God bless you ! ’ ’ 

After riding in silence some distance, Dr. Greydone 
asked : 

“Did you do right in giving the sick woman coffee?” 

Daphne saw the drift and import of his question and 
did not reply at once. He waited in patience and in silence. 
He knew, whatever answer might be given, it would be an 
honest one. 

‘ ‘ No, ’ ’ she said very deliberately. ‘ ‘ I did neither right nor 
wrong, strictly speaking. There are many of our actions 
through life which come not in the categories of right and 
wrong ; and yet these actions may be laudatory or damna- 
tory according to their nature. I did that which I believed 
to be an act of kindness to one who can never reward me, 
even if she would. I did it because, with a knowledge of 
the conditions, I would have been miserable had I re- 
frained. I knew she had no coffee and no means of buying 
it. And I am happier .for the little act of kindness than I 
could possibly be without it or its like. You may say this 
implies selfishness. Be it so. This kind of selfishness adds 
to the sum of human happiness and does not augment hu- 
man misery. The same cannot be said of the other kind. 
I believe that charity is human action as a woof, woven 


GLADYS 


21 


into the warp of divine love ; and with the web thus woven 
our spuls shall be clothed when we shall appear before the 
pitying eye of God. This state of mind, resulting from acts 
of true charity, is a demonstration of the Divine character 
of Jesus, in that He alone of all the sons of men rose high 
enough to say, ‘Love your enemies, bless them that curse 
you, do good unto them that hate you, and pray for them 
which despitefully use you and persecute you.’ And the 
poet gives us a side dish to this feast of love : 

“ ‘He who hath soothed the widow’s woe, 

Or wiped an orphan’s tear, doth know 
There’s something here of Heaven.’ ” 

This was all new to Greydone. He had formulated the 
theorem that right and wrong included all human actions ; 
but here was a class of actions neither right nor wrong, 
but when looked at in the light of the character of Jesus 
Christ were immeasurably superior to all right per se. 
And when viewed as a remedy for evil, however it may 
have come into the world, all right and justice and human 
obligations fell to insignificance. Was this reasonable? 
Yes, Reason could not object. It was true that she was 
somewhat blind without this Messianic ray of a higher 
love, but still she could not object to the statement of the 
problem in these terms. 

The minds of our young friends, being too much oc- 
cupied in thought for further conversation, the journey 
to the city was concluded in silence. 

At the residence of a friend Daphne reined her pony. 
After assisting her to alight, Dr. Greydone took the pre- 
scription from her hand and said : 


22 


GLADYS 


‘ ‘ I will call for yon within an hour, if that will suit your 
convenience. 9 

“Very well. Thank you.” 

And he rode off. On his way to the drug store memory 
flashed as a beam of light before his mind’s eye the fol- 
lowing beautiful words of A. W. and J. C. Hare, as given 
in “Genesis of Truth,” and quoted as a caption for this 
chapter: “One can never repeat too often that Reason, 
as it exists in man, is only an intellectual eye, and that, 
like the eye, to see it needs light — to see clearly and far it 
needs the light of Heaven.” And this sentence played 
pranks with his every mental process until he joined the 
young lady for the ride home. 

The conversation as they rode the homeward way was 
such as warm, hopeful hearts enjoy. They entertained 
themselves with poetry, fiction, philosophy, neighborhood 
news and like topics, interspersed with sallies of wit and 
happy laughter. At the parting of the ways, where they 
had met some hours previous, Daphne’s companion said: 

“Miss Daphne, if it is entirely agreeable every way, I 
would be very happy to drive you to church on next Sun- 
day. I understand Eld. Charles Carlton, of Kentucky 
Town, Texas, will preach at Fayetteville. He stops off 
there over Sunday to renew old acquaintanceship.” 

“Thank you, doctor; I will be very glad of an oppor- 
tunity to hear Mr. Carlton again. I heard him a few times 
when I was a child. I was always reminded of the black- 
smith’s sledge-hammer by his sermons — he flattened things 
out so.” 

Smiling at the simile he replied : 


GLADYS 


23 


“I will bring my carriage, which has adjustable seats, 
so the drive will be pleasant, and Choctah can play civili- 
zation by taking a Sunday rest.” 

“Thank you. He is a good Indian and will appreciate 
it, I am sure.” 

“Good-bye.” 

“Good-bye.” 


CHAPTER III. 


The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. 

— Psalms 14:1. 

On the way to church the Sunday following, the con- 
versation turned on evangelizing methods, and Dr. Grey- 
done, who was inclined to be over critical at times, ques- 
tioned the wisdom of the policy pursued in the home mis- 
sion field. 

“If the story of the Bible is a true one,” said he, “it 
certainly holds the only plan of making the world better. 
The practical application of this plan seems to have been 
entrusted to faithful men who were able to teach others. 
And so, for eighteen hundred years, these ‘faithful men’ 
have proven unfaithful, in that they have, to the neglect of 
the country, directed their best and almost only efforts to 
the cities and centers of population. Now, I hold that the 
cities can be much more quickly converted by evangelistic 
work in the country than can be done by urban labor.” 

“Just now I do not see it in that light,” replied Daphne. 
“I have always thought that from the cities there flowed 
streams of purified energy, resultants of the close and hard 
attrition of mental metal. You would play on the afferent 
nerves of the communal body. Will you tell me why?” 

“It seems,” rejoined Greydone, “that, judging from 
statistics, the cities cannot sustain themselves on any line 


GLADYS 


25 


without a constant supply of new energy from the country. 
Fence up New York, Chicago, New Orleans, Cincinnati, 
St. Louis or any other large city for fifty years, allowing 
nothing to enter in the way of new blood and brawn, and 
such city would become so enervated that its citizens 
would be absolutely incapable of any commendable mental 
or physical effort. It is only by the influx of suburban 
blood and energy that they maintain their commercial 
dominance. Now, if you wish to purify a stream of water, 
so as to render it usable at its mouth, you would reason- 
ably direct your best efforts to the source of such stream, 
and also see to it that its tributaries were properly cared 
for. So of the cities. If the human stream which daily 
flows to and furnishes the city with its very life, which is 
constantly wasted by sin, corruption and the idleness of 
wealth; be Christianized and purified before it reaches the 
stagnating pools of overcrowded communities, the effect in 
a few decades would be marvelous for good.” 

‘‘How, then, should this be done?” asked the young 
lady. 

“The plan is very simple. The very best talent in the 
church should be employed to go out into the byways and 
hedges and preach this gospel that, it is claimed, will ‘pur- 
ify the heart by faith,’ ” answered Greydone. 

“0 what a field in which to utilize the highest energies 
of Christian capability ! Does not the idea of being a pio- 
neer in this almost untrodden way cause your pulse to 
throb with a laudable ambition?” queried Daphne. 

“If I had your faith it would move me to action,” said 


he. 


26 


GLADYS 


“0 God! Give him a faith equal to his ability to lead 
men to a better life, ’ ’ fervently exclaimed the devoted girl. 

“Amen!” responded he; and silently they pondered, 
each, perhaps, “dreaming dreams they had not dared to 
dream before,” until the church house was reached. 

There was at this time quite a coloring of atheistic so- 
called philosophy in and around Fayetteville, and Mr. 
Carlton was well aware of it. He had been duly posted 
by his brethren, and, on consultation, it was decided that 
the sermon he was to preach that morning would traverse 
this growing danger to the church. The preacher entered 
into the task set for him with his characteristic energy and 
logic. It was a masterly effort, and, as Daphne had said 
of his other sermons, was of the sledge-hammer style. So 
far as one sermon of an hour’s length could accomplish it, 
the whole field was plowed, rolled and harrowed with no 
dull, poorly tempered, worn-out tools. Only a specimen 
of the argument can be given.* 

“I allow you to doubt all things if you wish, till you 
come to the point where doubt denies itself. Doubt is an 
act of intelligence; only an intelligent agent can doubt. 
It as much demands intellect to doubt as it does to believe 
— to deny as to affirm. Universal doubt is, therefore, an 
impossibility, for doubt cannot, if it would, doubt the in- 
telligence that doubts, since to doubt that would be to 
doubt itself. You cannot doubt that you doubt, and then, 


*The author is well aware of the anachronism, also the plagiarism, of putting 
this extract into Mr. Carlton’s mouth, although he is perfectly capable of it; and 
doubtless he has often followed the same logicaHines. The argument is from Brown- 
son’s Review, as quoted by Dr. Lambert in his “ Notes on Ingersol.” Every admirer 
of Ingersol should read Lambert’s Notes; and the world will long be the debtor to 
this scholarly man for this masterly production. The license of fiction permits the 
liberty taken, and it well suits our purpose. 


GLADYS 


27 


if you doubt, you know that you doubt, and there is one 
thing at least you do not doubt, namely, that you doubt. 
To doubt the intelligence that doubts would be to doubt 
that you doubt, for without intelligence there can be no 
more doubt than belief. 

'‘Intelligence, then, you must assert, for without intel- 
ligence you cannot even deny intelligence, and the denial 
of intelligence by intelligence contradicts itself and affirms 
intelligence in the very act of denying it. Doubt, then, 
as much as you will, you must still affirm intelligence as 
the condition of doubting, or of asserting the possibility of 
doubt, for what is not cannot act. 

“This much, then, is certain, that however far you may 
be disposed to carry your denials you cannot carry them 
so far as to deny intelligence, because that would be de- 
nial of denial itself. Then you must concede intelligence, 
and then whatever is essential to the reality of intelli- 
gence. In conceding anything, you concede necessarily 
all that by which it is what it is, and without which it 
could not be what it is. Intelligence is inconceivable with- 
out the intelligible, or some object capable of being known. 

“So, in conceding intelligence, you necessarily concede 
the intelligible. The intelligible is, therefore, something 
which is, is being, real being, too, not merely abstract or 
possible being, for without the real there can be no pos- 
sible or abstract. The abstract, in that it is abstract, is 
nothing, and therefore unintelligible — that is to say, no 
object of knowledge or of intellect. 

“The possible, as possible, is nothing but the power or 
ability of the real, and is apprehensible only in that power 
or ability. In itself, abstracted from the real, it is pure 


GLADYS 


nullity, has no being, no existence, is not, and therefore is 
unintelligible, no object of intelligence or of intellect, on 
the principle that what is not is not intelligible. Conse- 
quently, to the reality of intelligence a real intelligible is 
necessary, and since the reality of intelligence is undeni- 
able the intelligible must be asserted, and asserted as real, 
not as abstract or merely possible being. You are obliged 
to assert intelligence, but you cannot assert intelligence 
without asserting the intelligible, and you cannot assert 
the intelligible without asserting something that really is 
— that is, without asserting real being. The real being 
thus asserted is either necessary and eternal being, being 
in itself, subsisting by and from itself, or it is contingent 
and therefore created being. One or the other we must 
say, for being which is neither necessary nor contingent, 
or which is both at once, is inconceivable, and cannot be 
asserted or supposed. 

Whatever is, in any sense, is either necessary and eternal 
or contingent and created — is either being in itself, abso- 
lute being, or existence dependent on another for its be- 
ing, and therefore is not without the necessary and eternal, 
on which it depends. If you say it is necessary and eternal 
being, you say it is God ; if you say it is contingent being, 
you still assert the necessary and eternal, therefore God, 
because the contingent is neither possible nor intelligible 
without the necessary and eternal. The contingent, since 
it has its being only in the necessary and eternal, and since 
what is not is not intelligible, is intelligible as the contin- 
gent only in necessary and eternal being, the intelligible 
in itself, in which it has its being, and therefore is intel- 
ligibility. So, in either case, you cannot assert the intel- 


GLADYS 


29 


ligible without asserting necessary and eternal being ; and 
therefore, since necessary and eternal being is God, with- 
out asserting God, or that God is; and since you must 
assert intelligence even to deny it, it follows that in every 
act of intelligence God is asserted, and that it is impos- 
sible without self-contradiction to deny His existence.” 

No pen can describe the effect of this discourse on the 
audience. There were mighty intellects there, for the 
preacher’s reputation was notorious and his methods were 
known to be ' merciless. Men were there whose pride of 
egotism would not yield without a struggle, and that a 
fearful one. Men whose agnosticism was defended by 
glacis, covered way, foss, revelin, parapet, revetment and 
all the arts of fortification which the combined intelligence 
and sophistry of infidelity had been able to bring to bear 
throughout the ages from Porphrry to Paine. And yet 
these hearts, strong in their own strength, stood still, and 
cheeks that had known no pallor at the cannon’s mouth 
became ashy as the mighty missiles of truth tore through 
embankments and leveled defences that were thought to 
be impregnable. The thoughts that would not down at 
the bidding were : If there be a God, He may be the 
author of that message to man known as the Bible ; and if 
so, my chances are dark indeed, for I have scoffed the 
story of Jesus as a legend and held Moses as a myth. I 
must readjust my philosophy, if indeed it be not now ever- 
lastingly too late — and then the readjustment may con- 
firm all this to my utter undoing. 

The benediction was given, almost unheard, for many 
a Christian soul was swallowed up in the prayer, ‘‘O Lord, 


30 


GLADYS 


let not thy truth return unto thee void, but let it accom- 
plish that whereunto Thou hast sent it.” 

Invitations were always given to the people from the 
country to remain for dinner with the brethren. Fre- 
quently this Christian hospitality was accepted, and on 
this occasion Dr. Greydone and Daphne stopped with 
Judge Gray, and to their surprise they found Mr. Carlton, 
with others, there. Aunt Alice also was duly established 
in the dining-room. At dinner the conversation turned on 
the education of children, the common school system and 
kindred subjects. A gentleman present remarked that the 
study of mathematics was the very best means of training 
the young mind to respect truth, as it forced the formation 
of a habit of arriving at correct conclusions. Elder Carl- 
ton asked him if this truth-telling from habit did not 
largely smack of mechanics, and would it not be better if 
moral honor had more to do with truth-telling than habit ? 
The gentleman thought that moral honor was all right 
for the more advanced student, but as a starter in the 
right direction mathematics was the thing par excellence. 

The elder rejoined that pure mathematics gave results 
from premised numbers, which premises might, in the 
absence of moral honor, be incorrect ; hence the conclusion 
would be errant. But if moral honor compelled a correct 
statement of the factors in the problem, ordinary intel- 
ligence would force a correct result ; hence moral honor in 
practical ethics was of primary importance. 

“Now,” continued Mr. Carlton, “substitute conscience 
for moral honor, and it simplifies matters greatly. The 
child whose conscience and intellect have been coeducated, 
if industrious, will not long remain ignorant of the right, 


GLADYS 


31 


and may be safely left, at the proper age, to decide on any 
line of conduct circumstances may propose. ” 

“Do you maintain, Mr. Carlton,’ ’ asked Dr. Greydone, 
“that conscience is a judge of right and wrong?” 

“Certainly not,” replied the Elder. “The intellect 
judges of right and wrong in the same way that it judges 
of the proper methods of building a house or farming a 
field. And if honest error enters into the solution of any 
problem it is chargeable to the intellect. Conscience is 
that faculty of the mind which impels obedience to intel- 
lectual dictation, whether that dictation be wise or other- 
wise. ” 

“Then,” said Daphne, “a person may be honestly and 
conscientiously wrong on any subject if not properly in- 
formed.” 

“Just so,” replied Judge Gray. 

‘ ‘ I have always thought, ’ ’ said a young lady, who up to 
this point had remained a silent listener, “that in matters 
of religious convictions, if an individual was honestly try- 
ing to serve God, that service was right and acceptable to 
Him, be its character what it might.” 

“My dear young friend,” replied Mr. Carlton, “error 
can never be right. And where a person’s acts of obedi- 
ence vary from God’s specific commands, no matter how 
conscientiously performed, such person, if accepted by the 
Maker of Worlds, is accepted entirely outside the re- 
demption scheme set forth in the Gospel. Honesty of con- 
viction has never yet been a successful plea for transgres- 
sion in human affairs ; whether it will be acceptable in the 
great assize of Heaven we have no means of knowing. We 
frail mortals make no pretense to limit the mercy of the 


32 


GLADYS 


All-Merciful Father or to formulate laws whereby the fu- 
ture destiny of a single human being shall be determined. 
The homely maxim of Davy Crockett applies here in full 
force, ‘Be sure you are right, then go ahead.’ This right- 
ful assurance may be had by any ordinarily intelligent 
man or woman, for ‘ The way shall be so plain that wayfar- 
ing men, though fools, shall not err therein.’ It may be 
said to us, as Jesus said to his questioners on a certain oc- 
casion, ‘Ye do err, not knowing the Scriptures,’ and a 
conscientious appeal to God’s word will invariably cor- 
rect all errors.” 

The conversation had drifted away from its first sub- 
ject. The meal was finished, and they arose from the table. 

Aunt Alice handed Daphne a note as she passed from 
the dining-room, which informed her that Mrs. Gordon, 
the sick woman to whom she had given the coffee a few 
days previous, was dying. The note had been written by 
a neighbor and sent in haste by hand. The young lady 
was requested to spare no time, as the dying one had 
called for her repeatedly. She hurriedly informed Dr. 
Greydone of the import of the message, and he ordered 
his carriage immediately. Aunt Alice determined to go 
also and render what aid she could. Her son had sent her 
a nice phaeton and pony from Joplin, so she was off while 
the others were saying good-bye. 

On arriving at Mrs. Gordon’s humble home they found 
the neighbors had gathered in and were making the dying 
one as comfortable as possible. But she was sinking very 
rapidly. Her flickering pulse was scarcely perceptible, 
and the breathing was labored and shallow. 

Daphne took a seat beside the sick bed and held the 































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CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS (RED DEER) — page 36 



























































































































































































GLADYS 


33 


sufferer’s clammy hand in hers. Mrs. Gordon faintly 
smiled as she recognized the kind-hearted friend, and be- 
tween breaths, in a whisper, she said : 

“I am glad you have come. I want to tell you that 
dying is not so hard as I once feared. There is some kind 
hand leading me along death’s dark way. Will you please 
be a friend to and watch over my poor, lonely, doubly 
orphaned darling, Gladys?” 

“While heaven spares my life, she shall not lack for a 
friend and a home,” said Daphne. 

“Tell her,” said Dr. Greydone, “that I will double 
every act of love you bestow on her daughter.” 

Daphne tried to speak, but could not; and it seemed 
that Gladys’ poor torn heart could bear no more. She 
was kneeling by Daphne, and her mother placed a hand on 
her head and said: 

“Do not weep so, darling. God has sent you good, true 
friends, and you will come to mother bye and bye.” 

Turning her eyes to Dr. Greydone, she said: 

“I heard you, doctor, and the Father in Heaven will 
bless Miss Daphne and you. I know you will be good to 
my child.” 

Her strength seemed gone, and she sank into uncon- 
sciousness. More and more feeble grew the breathing, 
until it ceased altogether, and Daphne, with tears falling 
like rain, for her heart bled for the lonely child kneeling 
by her side, took up that song : 

“ ‘For weary feet, there waits a street, 

Of wondrous pave, and golden; 

For hearts that break, the angels wake 
The story sweet and olden.’ ” 


34 


GLADYS 


With the last words her voice failed, and she could sing 
no more. The supposed dead woman opened her eyes, and 
in a voice sweet as the tones from the heartstrings of Is- 
rafel sang the chorus: 

“ ‘I’m going home, no more to roam; 

No more to sigh or sorrow: 

No more to wear the brow of care; 

I’m going home tomorrow — ’ ” 

and the spirit passed to the great beyond as the echoes 
of her voice died on the ear. But 

“ ‘O! sweet as a rosebud encircled with dew, 

When its fragrance is wafted on air,’ ” 


was the smile that lighted her pale lips as the death angel 
looked on her face for the last time. 

Greydone and Aunt Alice both watched the scene 
with intense interest, but with thoughts as different as 
could possibly be. When the last spark of life had fled 
from the now cold form before them, the old colored 
woman said slowly, as she gazed on the pallid clay, now so 
still : 

“De man who would take away de hope an’ de comfort 
ob religion from a po’ dyin’ creeter like her mus’ be bad 
indeed / 9 

We shall learn of Greydone ’s thoughts further on. 


CHAPTER IV. 


I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago (whether in 
the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot 
tell: God knoweth); such an one caught up into the third heaven. 
And I knew such a man (whether in the body or out of the body 
I cannot tell: God knoweth); how that he was caught up into 
paradise and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful 
for man to utter. 

— II Corinthians, 12:2-4. 


In the year 1836, David Smith brought to Barry, now 
Newton, County, Missouri, from Kentucky, the Leviathan 
horse. This stock of horses was known as the long-winded 
stock, or a stock, as expressed by horsemen, having great 
bottom. The individual was a little over the average size, 
full chest, large nostrils and prominent eyes. His limbs 
were clean, muscles neither stocky nor over long, but very 
symmetrical; color, sorrel or light bay; generally some 
white in the face and on the pasterns; disposition kind. 
His prominent gaits were the fast walk and the long run * 
yet he was a good trotter. The author once rode a mare 
of this breed, in a walk all the way, between sunrise and 
sunset in December, from a point six miles north of Berry- 
ville, Arkansas, to Mitchell ’s Prairie, in McDonald County, 
Missouri, a distance of sixty-five miles. The feat seems 


36 


GLADYS 


impossible, but it was accomplished without injury to the 
animal. They were beasts of great spirit, and while brave 
and usually tractable and docile, they, when badly fright- 
ened, put forth their great strength, swiftness and endur- 
ance in a remarkable manner. Other good strains had, 
from time to time, been brought into the country, and the 
result was some very fine animals, every way desirable as 
roadsters. Dr. Greydone, whose inclinations and habits 
ran to outdoor life, dearly loved a good team. He was 
never more happy than when he held the reins behind two 
of these noble beasts, which he believed could, under any 
circumstances, put poor old Job’s war-horse to shame and 
cause him to die of envy. 

After the sad scene described at the closing of the last 
chapter, Dr. Greydone and Daphne prepared to depart. 
Friends, and the good people generally of the neighbor- 
hood, had gathered in, and nothing could be done further 
for the deceased. The horses were brought out and har- 
nessed to the carriage. Aunt Alice concluded to remain 
and after the funeral services take Mrs. Gordon’s little 
daughter, Gladys, to Daphne’s home with her. The poor, 
lonely, orphan could not live at her old home alone, and 
the old woman well knew that her young mistress would 
be all too pleased if she could in any way comfort and aid 
the bereaved girl. Indeed, this had been talked over be- 
tween the two previously. 

Dr. Grej^done ’s horses, as they neared the neighborhood 
of their home, with arched necks, extended nostrils and 
bright eyes, were rapidly stepping off the few remaining 
miles of their journey, when suddenly there bounded from 
a clump of underbrush nearby the road a large deer of 


GLADYS 


37 


magnificent proportions. The startled horses sprang for- 
ward and on the instant were in a rapid run. The fright- 
ened stag, a little in front and not thirty yards to the 
right of the road, could not leave the runaways on account 
of a high bluff of rock still further to the right and extend- 
ing nearly parallel to the roadway for two hundred paces. 
The deer could not outrun the horses a sufficient distance 
to permit it to cross in front and so escape to the forest; 
and it would not turn back, and thus pass behind, and it 
became a trial of speed between the racing Leviathans and 
the agile monarch of the Boston Mountains. Eliminate 
the element of danger to life and limb to the occupants of 
the carriage and the team, and it was a sight to behold 
with admiration. Very fortunately the road was straight 
and level, with no stumps or boulders of j*tone, yet from 
the small uneven spots the carriage rocked from side to 
side like a cradle. Daphne, at the first spring of the 
horses, had caught Greydone around the waist and thus 
saved herself from being thrown to the ground. Between 
his set teeth he said to her: 

“Hold tight to me, and I will save you!” 

This reassured her, and like the mighty rushing of a tor- 
nado they were speeded — would it be to a horrid, mang- 
ling death? Fortune favored them again, for at a point 
where the bluff pierced the hill the road rapidly ascended, 
and the ascent continued for a mile, with only one curve, 
and that near the top of the mountain. Beyond this curve 
the upward incline was much greater, and Greydone be- 
lieved, could this curve be passed without upsetting the 
carriage and could the team be kept to the roadway, he 
would be able to check the frightened animals before the 


38 


GLADYS 


top of the final ascent was reached. Nerving himself for 
what he believed to be the final struggle against fate, he 
again spoke : 

“Daphne, darling, do not give up. As we are making 
the turn on the curve, lean as far as possible from me, but 
don ’t lose your hold. ’ ’ 

She was on the inside of the curve. The fearful point 
was reached, and with almost superhuman strength he 
reined the dashing steeds close as possible to the project- 
ing rock around which the turn was to be made. He was 
sufficiently skilled as a driver to know that by hugging 
this point he could to a small degree straighten the curve, 
and every inch, perhaps, carried with it the value of a life 
that was dearer to him than his own. With a swish and a 
dash like lightning this danger was safely passed and the 
steeper grade struck. He had not, in all the long, mad 
flight, spoken to his horses. But now, knowing, notwith- 
standing their great strength and powers of endurance, 
they were somewhat winded, he began talking kindly to 
them, at the same time pulling with a sawing motion on 
the bits. He noted by the motions of their ears that they 
heard him. and he spoke more positively. Slowly and 
tremblingly their speed was slackened, and at an imper- 
ative “Whoa” they stopped still, but with eyes flashing 
and ears alert. 

“Thank God, Daphne, you are safe!” 

He looked at the still, clinging girl by his side, but “pale 
as marble and silent and cold” she lay against him in a 
swoon. Gently disengaging her arms from his waist, at 
the same time talking soothingly to his horses, he stepped 
from the carriage and rapidly unhitched them. They were 


GLADYS 


39 


now measurably quiet, so he tied them to a small tree 
which stood by and hurriedly turned his attention to the 
young lady. He found some pulsation at the wrist, and, 
having his case at hand, poured into her mouth a little 
compound spirits of lavender in which was a drop or two 
of tincture of capsicum. He then held, so she could lightly 
breathe its odor, a phial of spirits of ammonia. Soon she 
opened and closed her eyes, and he then knew she was 
safe. After a minute or more she again opened her eyes 
and murmured: 

“How like the glorious pagaentry of a beautiful 
dream !” 

He climbed into the carriage, raised her up, seated him- 
self, and took her in his arms. 

“0 darling !” said he. “Had you been killed the light of 
my life would have gone out forever !” 

“Not forever. Could you not have come to me over 
yonder?” 

Her voice was scarcely audible, yet he heard every syl- 
lable, and replied: 

“I would have tried, darling.” 

He bent over and gave to her yet pale lips their first 
kiss, the seal of an honorable man’s strong, undying love. 

“How strangely sweet it is to be loved,” and her eyes 
affirmed the truth of her words. 

“Not more strangely sweet than to love,” was his reply. 

And that was their betrothal. 

But the deer did not stay to witness it. 

After taking a little more of the stimulant and resting 
for half an hour, Daphne was herself again. The horses 
were coaxed, patted, petted and given a few slices of an 


40 


GLAD VS 


apple which Dr. Greydone had in his pocket. All this so 
pacified them that they were as quiet and docile as they 
were before the fright. On being hitched to the carriage 
they behaved with all the nonchalance of old stagers and 
not a whit the worse for the wonderful run they had made. 

The journey was resumed, and the rebound of feeling 
was such that our friends were quite jolly over their race 
with the deer, and an amicable dispute arose as to which, 
the horses or the stag, won in the contest. Greydone said 
that his horses certainly were first at the stopping place. 

“But you must acknowledge, ’ ’ bantered Daphne, “that 
the deer passed out of sight first/ ’ 

“How do you know,” laughed the doctor, “whether he 
passed out of sight from us or we from him?” 

“ 0 ! that deer was out of sight when I was out of mind, ’ ’ 
replied the girl. “We had not stopped then, so I guess we 
all came out ahead, or out of our heads, whichever you 
like.” 

“He certainly did not go out without his tail, for that 
was the last I saw of him.” 

“Well! If that was the last you saw of him, I judge 
it is the last of him yet.” 

“That last will never be first.” 

“Unless you should see it first, in another race.” 

“I hope the first race will be the last.” 

And so they sparred at each other for half a mile or 
more, and then relapsed into silence. 

Greydone was the first to break that silence. 

“My darling,” he said slowly, as if weighing every 
word in the balance of deep thought, “while in that ter- 
rible ride I had a remarkable psychical experience. I once 


GLADYS 


41 


read of a man falling from a great height. He was badly 
injured by the fall, but recovered. He told his physician 
that during the falling, while passing through the air to 
the earth, every act of his life, from his youth up, was so 
startlingly vivid to his memory that it all seemed burned 
into his brain as if from an electric flash. Now, when 
dashing along the road in that wild charge, I experienced 
something like this, and it has startled me. I am wonder- 
ing if what we call mind is only an exhibition of molecular 
energy — how a fright, which cannot be physical, can pos- 
sibly set in motion such mental action. Since our wonder- 
ful escape I have also remembered the remarkable cir- 
cumstance of Mrs. Gordon singing those lines in the very 
moment of death in such sweet tones. All this has made 
a very deep impression on me, for this reason: I cannot 
reconcile the death agony with such wonderful, energetic 
exultation as we witnessed in Mrs. Gordon’s last moment 
on any other hypothesis than that she either saw, or be- 
lieved she saw, some thing or condition which was very 
beautiful and exhilarating. And it is as reasonable and 
easy to believe that she really saw as to believe that it was 
only a pleasant hallucination. For what could be more 
unreasonable than that, amidst the death agony, when 
cold, pale, and damp with the dewmist of dissolution, with 
every phenomenon of what we call life in actual contact 
with zero, one could be glad and joyous and singing with 
such volume, sweetness and seeming ecstacy*” 

“I will tell you of a circumstance Elder Lotspeitch, of 
Missouri, related to me once,” said Daphne after a few 
moments of silent thoughtfulness. 4 4 ‘There was a little 
girl,’ he said, ‘aged thirteen years, who died in Lawrence 


42 


GLADYS 


County, Missouri, when I had charge of a church not far 
from her parent’s residence. When, at the last moment, 
all present thought she had closed her eyes forever, and 
the agonized wail of the mother told of breaking heart- 
strings, the little supposedly lifeless corpse opened its 
eyes, and without assistance from the thoroughly aston- 
ished friends, raised to a sitting posture on the bed of 
death, and with joyous, smiling astonishment depicted in 
every feature, exclaimed in a full, pleasant, musical- voice, 
“Who are they, and who crowned them?” Before a 
breath could be taken or a word uttered she lay down and 
was dead — even by the time her head touched the pil- 
low!’ ” 

“Such things are very strange,” said Dr. Greydone. 
“And now I remember being called in consultation on the 
case of a young lady, Miss Maggie Lewis, who lived a few 
miles east of Neosho, Missouri. She was unquestionably 
dying of what the French designate as ramoulissement 
(acute softening of the brain). She would pass into un- 
consciousness, and in this condition it would seem that life 
had gone out indeed. After lying so for some minutes 
she would revive and be rational. These attacks of great 
depression rapidly grew more profound and frequent. 
After recovering from one, which all present supposed was 
the last, she whispered to a friend at her bedside, ‘ I want 
the doctor.’ Her physician, who was a well informed 
Christian gentleman, was sitting outside the door under 
a shade tree in full view of her. On being told of her 
wish he stepped inside. She was very weak and could 
articulate only with great difficulty. She said to him : 

“ ‘Doctor, I cannot live but a little while.’ 


GLADYS 


43 


“He replied, ‘I know that, Maggie. But to one whose 
life has been devoted to the service of God as yours has, 
death certainly has no terrors/ 

“ ‘0! it isn’t that,’ said she, ‘but I thought maybe you 
was not aware.’ 

“ ‘Yes, yes, Maggie,’ said the doctor. ‘But keep your 
trust in Jesus, and all will be well.’ 

“She passed away again, and the doctor resumed his 
former position under the shade tree. After awhile con- 
sciousness returned, and she was quiet. Presently she 
opened her eyes and said to this same friend 

“ ‘Tell the doctor to come to me.’ 

He was informed of her wish, and was at her side in a 
moment. She feebly offered her hand, which he took 
gently in his, when she said in a strong, full voice : 

“ ‘Doctor, I am gone to heaven!’ and a smile as radiant 
and bright as a wave of glory swept over her beautiful 
face. She was dead ! 

“Now I have often wondered why this dying girl said, 
‘I am GONE to heaven,-’ rather than ‘I am GOING to 
heaven.’ ” 

“Your wonder brings to my mind,” said Daphne, “the 
circumstance of the Egyptian princess looking into heaven 
for just one moment, and in that moment ages on ages, as 
we count them, passed away on earth. This story is told 
by Hans Christian Anderson in the ‘Mud-King’s Daugh- 
ter. ’ Now, may it not be that the glimpse this girl had of 
the great beyond revealed the fact that there is no past or 
future with God’s chosen — only one eternal now? So, she 
said, ‘ I AM gone, ’ doing the best she could with our poor 


44 


GLADYS 


language, by using a verb in the perfect past tense, to ex- 
press an infinite present.” 

“That thought is worthy of your clear brain and dear 
heart,” said the Doctor. 

Her answering smile told him of her love and trust. 

“Well! Here we are at your home,” said he, as the 
house appeared in view. 

At the gate he bade her good-bye, and he said he would 
call in a day or two. 

“You know I will be happy to see you,” she said. 

“I repeat your dear words from my heart of hearts,” 
he replied. And he drove to his own home. 


CHAPTER V. 


Leaves have their time to fall, 

And flowers to wither at the northwind’s breath. 

And stars to set — but all, 

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! 

— Mrs. Hemans. 


Dr. Greydone’s hostler was ready and waiting, as he 
ever was, to groom the horses, and, as it was then dark, he 
lighted his lantern and immediately took them to the barn. 
The Doctor’s friend, Col. Blake, was waiting in the office 
for medicine and advice for one of his children, which had 
some slight ailment. After informing himself of the na- 
ture of the trouble the Doctor proceeded to compound a 
suitable prescription. While thus engaged the conversa- 
tion ran, by accident, on the subject of the labor incident 
to a country practice as compared with that in a city. 

“Why do you prefer the country to the city, Grey- 
done?” asked the Colonel. It seems to me, with your 
qualifications and knowledge of the world, you could 
double, or even treble, your income by a city practice. 
Then, the opportunities are so much greater there for en- 
joying the pleasures of social life and entertainment in the 
way of literature.” 


46 


GLADYS 


“Your argument is good from a financial standpoint, ’ ’ 
Greydone admitted. “But money is not all there is of life. 
Besides, I have sufficient of that for my wants anyway. 
My collections for six or eight years have been good and 
satisfying. I have a different reason for doing a country 
practice. I had a conversation a little on this line a short 
time since with a young lady. However, we were speaking 
of the ministry instead of medicine.” 

“Why! Have you turned your attention to theology, 
too?” asked Colonel Blake. “You are certainly quite 
cosmopolitan in your mental range.” 

“0 ! One can think and talk a great deal without injury 
to one’s self or his neighbor if his intentions are good.” 
replied Greydone. “I told this young lady that the way 
to reform the world was to educate the suburban, rather 
than urban, citizen.” 

“I do not see it.” 

“Well, as I told her,” resumed Greydone, “cities would 
not last long were it not for the constant stream of new 
blood flowing into their effete systems from the country.” 

“I see. But what did the young lady say to it?” 

“She agreed in every particular.” 

“Sensible woman,” said Blake. 

“And your observation proves you a sensible man in 
two things,” said Greydone, laughing. 

“How in two things?” 

“Your admission of the truth and judgment of the 
woman.” 

“Suppose,” said Colonel Blake, with a twinkle in his 
eye as he looked at his friend, “that you should conclude 
and make one sensible person out of two — the young lady 


GLADYS 


47 


and yourself, for instance — would not that be ‘lessening 
the sum of human misery,’ in that only one would then 
suffer, whereas now it is two?” 

“It might,” said the Doctor, “if I did not double the 
suffering by unifying the individuals.” 

“You are hard on me. I’ll have nothing to do with you 
further,” laughed his friend, as he took the medicine 
which the Doctor handed him. “Good-night. Directions 
are written for giving it?” 

“Yes. Good-night. Let me know if the little one does 
not improve.” 

Doctor Greydone’s home was on the wire road before 
spoken of, a mile or so south of the crest of the Boston 
Mountains. It was a lovely, picturesque location. A large 
beautiful spring tumbled from a gorge a few hundred 
yards west of the house. In this spring he had placed 
a hydraulic ram, from which pipes carried the' clear, cold 
water to every room in the house and also to all his pas- 
ture grounds, lawns and barns. Forests of heavy timber, 
such as chinquapin, walnut, hickory nut, wild cherry and 
the different species of oak, covered the broken mountain 
sides. The tillable fields of very productive soil lay in the 
valley south, through which ran the waters from the 
watershed of the mountain into the Arkansas River in the 
vicinity of Van Buren. 

A beautiful highway was this old overland wire road, 
made famous by Butterfield’s historical and successful 
contest to deliver the U. S. mail from New York to San 
Francisco, via Albuquerque, ahead of the mail carried by 
steamers from and to the same points, interrupted only 
by the Isthmus of Panama. 


48 


GLADYS 


This road, in the section we speak of, was a veritable 
boulevard of the gods, where mythological fancies might 
have moved the old Greek poets to higher conceptions of 
their unseen rulers of the world. 

Into this home, which was kept in order by an old man, 
his wife and their son and daughter as general help, the 
scholarly owner had, by judicious selection from time to 
time, built up a magnificent library. There were books in 
many languages and on all subjects — books old, odd and 
common and new. The philosopher, the theologian, the 
critic and the politician were there. Poetry, art and fic- 
tion stood side by side with Dugald, Stewart, John Locke, 
Abercrombie, Hume, Volney, Voltaire, Horne Tooke, Gib- 
bon, Mosheim, Luther, Paley, De Aubigne, Horn and 
others, whose contents were as different from these as 
were the different authors’ faces from each other. Then 
there were Aristotle, Virgil, Homer, Caesar, Josephus, 
Kant, Heigle and many more, like and unlike, till the book 
worm could laugh for joy. Yes, and there was a piano 
and a violin and a flute, with music galore to suit each in- 
strument, to charm the ear, and statuary and paintings to 
please the eye. 

Bachelor as he was, his house was a frequent resort of 
the best informed ladies and gentlemen of Ft. Smith, Van 
Buren, Fayetteville and surrounding country. 

His housekeeper’s daughter was a fair pianist, so, on 
the night of the day succeeding the runaway, as he felt 
considerably unstrung, he asked her to give him some 
music, thinking he might thereby be soothed somewhat. 
She readily complied with his request, and under the soft 
tones of a lovely air he floated away in memory to the fear- 



THORWALD GREYDONE, M. D. 









































GLADYS 


49 


ful ride and its sweet ending. Thanking the young lady 
for the charm of her music, he called for a glass of fresh 
milk, which he drank, and then retired to court rest and 
sleep. 

The next day, Monday, was spent looking over the farm 
and ordering such work done as seemed to he necessary; 
and again evening called him from labor to refreshment 
and sleep. 

Farther east, along the slopes of the mountain, there 
lived at this time young men, good-hearted enough they 
were, but whose morals were far below par. The purify- 
ing beams of the Christian religion had never touched the 
horizon of their moral world. From some unknown source 
these roughs had obtained a supply of whisky on the night 
of which we write, and they passed Greydone’s residence 
soon after he had lain down, on their way to a dance some- 
where in the vicinity. 

“These people, ” murmured the Doctor, “have but little 
conception of what true happiness is. Indeed, I fear they 
know as little of right and wrong as they do of happiness. 
How would they help to purify the city, should the tide 
of events carry them there?” 

With this he lost consciousness in sound, refreshing 
sleep, dreaming, perhaps, of how best to reform the world, 
in which dreams, I doubt not, there floated hither and 
thither a vision of “a rare and radiant maiden whom the 
angels” might envy. 

It has long been conceded by those versed in social ethics 
that there is something radically wrong in the dance. 
That the mere movements of the body in rythmic accord 
with musical measure is sinful, no one for a moment will 


50 


GLADYS 


contend. Then, if there be sin herein, in what does it lie, 
and wherein is the wrong more in dancing than in keeping 
time to music with hand or fingers? I am led to believe 
that a history of the evolution of the dance will reveal the 
secret. And while conscientious and morally good and 
pure people may take issue with me, I shall not shirk from 
plainly expressing my views. We will go back no farther 
in the anabolic process by which the dance has attained to 
its present characteristics than the seventeenth century. 
During that century the stately minuet held the votaries 
of social relaxation with the strong bonds of its pleasing 
dignity. This condition of gregarious amenities obtained 
with such strength and binding force that one, at that 
distant point of view, would have supposed that that form 
of the dance would have held to the end of time. But 
there were those who, not being schooled in the polite 
world of that day, were considered esthetic outlaws. These 
had their dances too. But their music was the product of 
unlicensed pathos, and would not admit of the sober min- 
uet. So the jig and reel were made necessary, and these 
constituted the germ of the ragtime music of the present 
day. As time passed, pathos became more colored and re- 
strained by a higher degree of education and civilization. 
To meet this condition of the social demand the quadrille 
and the cotillion were evolved. But sensuality was not 
satisfied with the purity of the cotillion any more than it 
had been with the stately dignity of the minuet. So this 
element of the sensual acted as a social, chemical, catalytic 
agent to produce a combination of the ragtime and pa- 
thetic factors which yet lingered in the cotillion, with the 
dignified and socially elevated minuet, and a new dance 


GLADYS 


51 


was the result. This new product gave to sensualism op- 
portunity for physical contact of the sexes and at the 
same time preserved the dignity of the old-time figure, so 
far as this could be done when set to ragtime music. This 
new species was a rara avis in the social world for a long 
time, but it is now well domesticated, and has become the 
pet of the highest circles. Even the church has been 
known to smile, without a blush, on the embrace of the 
roue, where her fair daughters were the embraced ones. 
No one believes that if the physical contact of the opposite 
sexes was eliminated from the waltz it would hold its 
sway in the elite sanctum for a single season. If any man 
so believes, let him try a waltz with his arm around the 
waist of a young gentleman. And so of the ladies. There 
are many practices whose oblique morals will not permit 
a close scrutiny by the truly ‘ ‘ pure in heart ’ ’ who wish to 
“see God. ” With all these, “distance lends enchantment 
to the view” of the unsophisticated. And those who 
“hunger and thirst after righteousness” are not likely to 
fill their lives and satiate their souls on the sensualism of 
the waltz after the manner described by Tolstoi in “The 
Kreutzer Sonata.” 

But to our story. 

After a good night’s rest, Doctor Greydone was enjoy- 
ing with keen appetite a breakfast of ham and eggs, with 
coffee and buttered, toasted, light bread. Breakfast was 
really his most important meal, for he ate very lightly for 
supper, and the morning dawn, “standing tiptoe on the 
mountain top” when it peered in at his window, usually 
found him at the table. His team had been fed and 
groomed, for he purposed driving to Van Buren that day 


52 


GLADYS 


on some business of a rather important nature. Just as 
the morning meal was finished, a horseman hurriedly gal- 
loped to the front gate and called to know if the Doctor 
was at home. Greydone stepped through the sitting-room 
to the door and said: 

“I am the Doctor.” 

“A man is shot, down here at Gaskins’, and they want 
you immediately,” stated the caller. Hastily ordering the 
team and gathering such medicines and surgical instru- 
ments and appliances as he thought might be necessary 
for the occasion, he took his seat, and with the injunction 
to the driver to make good time he was off at a rapid gait. 

Arriving at the place where the wounded man was, it 
proved to be the same where the revellers had congre- 
gated the night before; and, during the dance, an alterca- 
tion had arisen, which culminated in the shooting. The 
surgeon proceeded immediately to investigate the con- 
dition of his patient, and found it very serious indeed. 
The firearm used in the fight was of the variety known as 
the bulldog. It is a pistol of large caliber, short barrel 
and great force of missile, but not permitting accuracy of 
aim. At close quarters its effects are terrible, and this 
melee occurred in the room where the dancers were hilari- 
ously “tripping the light fantastic toe.” 

Doing all that could be done for the young man, and 
leaving him comfortable as possible under the circum- 
stances, Doctor Greydone, stepping outside of the house, 
where some forty or fifty of the mountaineers had congre- 
gated, said to an acquaintance : 

“I am going to Van Buren. I will return late this 
evening. I have done all that is possible to do for the boy. 


GLADYS 


53 


I will call on my way home, as I will lose but little time in 
doing so, and it will be better than to go home first and 
return here afterward.’ ’ 

“What do you think of his chances, Doctor Greydone?” 
queried the man. 

“He will certainly die within forty-eight hours. Good- 
day.” 

“Good-day,” echoed the man sadly. 

The dance had been what was known in those days a 
storming party — that is, the young folks had by concert 
agreed on a certain time and place for the party, and then, 
without informing their proposed host and hostess, gath- 
ered at the rendezvous and proceeded with their revelry. 
All this was customary, and was taken in good and kindly 
humor by those who were thus stormed. Frequently the 
dancing was kept up until the cock crew for the morning, 
when the party would break up, and by daylight the 
stormers would be at home, ready for the day’s work on 
the farm, or such other business as required attention. 

In the present instance, the adjournment had abruptly 
taken place when the difficulty commenced, and the terri- 
ble deed was done in time for all to carry the news with 
them to their respective homes. Thus was the neighbor- 
hood informed of the sad affair by the time the Doctor 
was summoned. This gave opportunity for the number 
present on his arrival. And this number was rapidly in- 
creased by the later coming of those who lived at more 
remote points. 

As a matter of course, the difficulty and its cause was 
enquired after and discussed by the neighbors in a manner 


54 


GLADYS 


characteristic of the freedom of country life. It seemed 
from what could be learned that the wounded man, whose 
name was John Gates, had, the year previous, circulated 
some slanderous stories on Mrs. Gordon, the woman whose 
death was noted in a former chapter. The stories were 
never credited by the citizens, for it was known that she 
was a good, pure, inoffensive person from childhood up. 
The slanders were placed at a time antedating her mar- 
riage to Carrol Gordon. He had never heard of the charges 
until the time Gates had circulated them, when some in- 
discreet friend enlightened him. Without ever an effort 
to ascertain the truth or falsity of the rumors, Gordon had 
disappeared as completely as if he had sunk, without wit- 
nesses, to the bottom of the ocean. This circumstance, and 
the knowledge of the slander, had hastened the poor wife ’s 
death and irritated a rowdying, drinking kinsman of hers, 
named Edwin Corwin, who vowed to force Gates to re- 
tract, or punish him. Gates had been informed of these 
threats, and so always went armed for an encounter. These 
two, thus angry and defiant at all times, unfortunately were 
intoxicated when they met at the dance. Gates, in the 
afterpart of the night, had asked a young lady who was 
previously engaged to Corwin to dance with him. The 
latter overheard the request, stepped up to the former, and 
remarked : 

“No decent girl will dance with a tale-bearer.” 

“You shall dance to my music,” retorted Gates, and as 
he said this he made an effort to draw his pistol. Before 
he could get the weapon from his pocket, Corwin drew his 
and fired. Immediately all was consternation, and in the 
confusion Corwin slipped out into the dark and escaped. 


GLADYS 


55 


There had come with some of the men a harmless luna- 
tic, whom everyone knew, and who was permitted to roam 
the country at his own pleasure. It was said that this 
poor man had become unbalanced mentally by the death 
of a loving daughter, who had “loved not wisely, but too 
well” in the years gone by, since which time he had ram- 
bled hither and thither as the fancy took him ; but always 
at elections and political speakings, huskings and neigh- 
borhood gatherings he made his advent and gave his opin- 
ions in a short speech. One strange thing about this de- 
mented man was, he could never be induced to attend 
church. Although familiar with the Scriptures, he never 
quoted or referred to them. He would not touch a Bible ; 
neither would he allow a minister to engage him in con- 
versation. His aversion on this line seemed to have grown 
from the fact that the man who had won the love of his 
daughter proved to be a hypocrite and an adventurer and 
a black religious fraud. Yet this strange and harmless 
man was in his better days a well educated, consistent 
member of the church, and never, when possible for him 
to attend, would he be absent from Lord’s Day service. 
At times, now, he seemed almost rational, and would have 
been so considered had it not been for his restless eye and 
persistent inclination, without observable motive, to ram- 
ble. His speeches, though always brief, were frequently 
eloquent and showed strong, consecutive thought. Such 
efforts, too, were generally characterized by pathos and 
energy. In passing about through the crowd which had 
assembled, James Golding, for that was the lunatic’s name, 
learned that the quarrel which had resulted so seriously 
to Gates was the result of a previous attack by the latter 


56 


GLADYS 


on Mrs. Gordon’s character when she was a young lady. 
He became very restless, and evidently was much excited. 
The neighbors, who were all well known to him, did not 
fear any bodily harm from him, but they knew he would 
have his say, and from the great tension of feeling under 
which they were laboring were naturally curious to hear 
his talk. After rapidly walking through the throng sev- 
eral times, muttering to himself as was his wont, he 
stepped up on a large block of stone, used by the women- 
folk in mounting their horses, and stood for a moment 
with a vacant stare. Then his eyes flashed, and every mus- 
cle of his body and every lineament of his face became 
tense as if in great agony. With a sweep he stretched 
forth his right hand and waved it over the heads of those 
near him. Seemingly growing taller by some inches, he 
raised his left hand, clinched both in an awful gesture of 
denunciation, and said in a full, hard, biting voice which 
seemed to shake his auditors in every atom and fiber of 
their being: 

“Hear the words of James Golding, the truthful man 
of the mountains and valleys! The basest scoundrel on 
earth is the beast in the shape of a man who will gain a 
young girl’s confidence, ruin her, and then tell it to his 
boon companions. The shade of a grade above him is the 
man who will lie on a virtuous girl, to ruin her character. 
Then, if an act which will make devils gibberish with glee 
can be less bad than such as are done by these, it is when 
poor, passionate humanity yields to overwhelming tempta- 
tion to pass the moral bounds which enclose purity and 
fence it off from the blackness of Sodom and Gomorrah. 
And it would be an injustice to Satan if the blood and 


GLAD VS 


57 


sacrifice of a Christ could atone for or condone such acts, 
so far as that hell should be deprived of its lawful prey! 
I have said it!” 

He sprang from the stepstone block, and without await- 
ing comment of approval or condemnation went on his 
way. Those who heard him were chilled with horror at 
his awful words . It was as if the unfortunate, demented 
man had poured out his soul in a reminiscence of his own 
wrongs. One man, breaking the silence that made all 
hearts stand still, said : 

‘‘I never realized till this moment the awful verity of 
the adage, ‘Children and fools tell the truth.’ ” 

“He is neither child nor fool, yet he has told the ter- 
rible truth,” replied a bystander. 

“Poor man ! How he must suffer ! And to think it might 
all have been avoided had his daughter heeded the advice 
of her elders,” remarked a young man who had been a 
silent listener to these remarks. 

“Ah, my friend,” said the second speaker, “the young 
are sometimes so giddy and headstrong that nothing short 
of death can stop them.” 

“I don’t know that the young are so much to blame in 
cases like his daughter’s,” the first speaker said. “The 
man whom she loved was to all appearances a gentleman.” 

“The daughter certainly knew he was not a gentle- 
man,” replied the second speaker. “I am afraid the sin 
lies at the door of those who do not impress the thought 
on the minds of young girls that virtue is above and be- 
yond all price and should be guarded by a sleepless, death- 
less watchfulness.” 


58 


GLADYS 


“A strong remedy for such evils might be found in a 
law whose penalty was death, in case of the death of the 
betrayed one, and the penitentiary for life, or at least a 
long term of years, where the injured one was spared to 
live.” This observation was made by an old man who had 
not spoken before. 

“If young women would take as a heart symbol the 
flower noli me tangere, and live up to its significant name, 
the fountain of tears would almost cease to flow over 
ruined lives and broken hearts. Too great familiarity 
between the sexes opens the floodgates of hell!” 

All turned to see this speaker, but he was walking away. 
Some thought he was a preacher, others a lawyer, and 
others again that he was a teacher from an adjoining dis- 
trict. But none was certain. 

As the day wore on the wounded man become restless 
and feverish. This was the result of reaction from the 
shock, and had been hastened by Doctor Greydone’s exhi- 
bition of non-alcoholic stimulants, which are so much more 
effective and satisfactory in subnormal conditions than 
brandy and whisky. As the sun was sinking behind the 
trees, “down the broad-breasted mountains away,” the 
Doctor drove up. Hastily securing the team, he entered 
the presence of the wounded man and from habit cheer- 
fully asked how he felt. 

“Doctor,” said Gates, in a voice which showed great 
loss of strength, “I am not feeling at all hopeful for the 
outcome of this wound, and for particular reasons I want 
your honest opinion of my case.” 

After a short time of silence, Greydone asked: 

“Would you object to giving me your reasons?” 


GLADYS 


59 


“I can give them, but prefer not to do so if there is a 
probability of my recovery. Do not fear to tell me the 
worst, for if death must come now I have an act of justice 
to consummate before I go.” 

“You look and talk like a man who has made up his 
mind to meet results sensibly, let them be what they may.” 

“Yes! Go on and tell me what you think. I may be, 
even now, wasting precious time.” 

“You have about thirty-six hours to live,” said Dr. 
Greydone. 

“Will I be conscious till the last?” 

“Perhaps till very near the last.” 

“Will you have time to get Mrs. Gordon’s daughter 
Gladys here while I am able to speak to her? I under- 
stand her mother died on Sunday and was buried yester- 
day.” 

“There is plenty of time.” 

“Then pay attention,” said Gates, “for I am too weak 
to waste words and strength. Send for the girl at once. 
Inform her that I am seriously hurt and have a message 
for her before I die that must be delivered. Any friend 
she may select may come with her and be present. Send 
also a runner to Gentry’s for my valise. It is locked, and 
Mrs. Gentry will deliver it to any one who will go. Have 
it here quick as possible. Now I must rest.” 

The surgeon administered a capsule containing a nerv- 
ine, and the patient dropped into a fitful slumber. 


CHAPTER YI. 


For round and round we run; 

And ever the right comes uppermost, 

And ever is justice done. 

— Unidentified. 


The distance to where Gladys Gordon had gone to live 
with Daphne Raymond was only about eight miles. Doc- 
tor Greydone drove rapidly home, changed horses, and 
had his hostler to drive him in the carriage to Daphne’s 
home, which was known far and wide by the beautiful 
name of Linwood Rest. And it was a Rest indeed. Miss 
Daphne, with Aunt Alice and her “ol’ man,” constituted 
the “fambly,” as Uncle Watt called it. Uncle Watt was 
not very religious — at least not at all times pious, how- 
ever strong his religious proclivities might be. He dearly 
loved his dram, and generally kept as much as a gallon, 
under lock and key, lest some bibulous darky neighbor 
might appropriate a glassful to his own use and benefit. 
His education was much more limited than that of his 
wife, Aunt Alice. Hence his exegeses of Scripture texts 
were as amusing as wonderful, and the readings were by 
no means confined to orthographical standards. As a 
sample of this peculiarity, one day, when irritated, he 
used some profane expletives and cursed his old mare for 


GLADYS 


61 


her supposed contrariness. Daphne and Aunt Alice re- 
monstrated with him and endeavored to show him how 
wicked such talk was, as they had done numberless times 
on similar occasions. But Uncle Watt was obstinate, and 
proceeded to justify himself as follows : 

“Now, you people ’tend to be mighty good an’ ar’ alius 
a harpin’ ’bout follerin’ de Lawd. Now he cussed, an’ 
cussed lots o’ times. He cussed a tree kase it wa’n’t worth 
a fig; and he cussed a sick man wunst, ’n mo’n dat he 
cussed him on de Sabbath Day, which was wo’se ’an all. 
Now, de Lawd cussed an ’ I f oiler him better ’an yo ’ do. ” 

“Oh! Uncle Watt !” laughed Daphne. “He certainly 
did not curse a sick man, and that on the Sabbath Day! 
I know,” she continued soberly, “he cursed the fig-tree; 
but it was his, and he had the right to deal wfith his own 
as he might think best. You know he w r as the Son of 
God and heir to all things.” 

“Well! Haint my ol’ mar’ my own, an’ ’cordin’ to yo’ 
own words I’m a right to cuss her, haint I?” 

This was a poser for the young girl, and she stood silent, 
with a countenance on which was depicted chagrin, mirth 
and impatience. The old negro hung his head thought- 
fully a few moments, then turned to Daphne and, in a 
half imperative, half coaxing tone, said: 

“Yo’ run into de cabin an’ look in my chist an’ fotch 
my Bible hea’. Yo’ young an’ supple an’ on yo’ fust legs 
an’ kin git ’roun’ faster ’n me. I’ll sho’ yo’ ’bout cus- 
sin’ on de Sabbath Day, so I will!” 

She walked into the cabin, and shortly returned with 
the old darkey’s treasured book. It was a large quarto, 
leather bound, printed and published by M. Cary & Son, 


62 


GLADYS 


Philadelphia, 1818. He reverently took the volume, sat 
down on a log near by, and proceeded to hunt up the pas- 
sage on which he relied as proof of his assertion and as a 
justification of his profanity. After some minutes of close 
search, his features lighted up, and he arose, handed her 
the book, his black finger still pointing to his proof text. 
Daphne’s quick eye caught the reference, and she burst 
out laughing, and exclaimed: 

“La! Uncle Watt! This does not say ‘He cussed the 
sick man, ’ but it says that ‘ He cured him. ’ ’ ’ 

It was the first statement in the headlines to Chapter V, 
John’s Gospel. The lines, in italics in this edition, are an 
epitome of the contents of the chapter, placed there by 
the editors, as was the custom, to facilitate the finding of 
any desired portion of the narrative, and are in no sense 
any part of the Gospel as written by the evangelist. This 
is the reading referred to : 

“Jesus on the Sabbath Day cureth him that was dis- 
eased eight and thirty years.” 

The narative, as penned by John, describes the cure of 
the man at the pool of Bethesda. 

The old man gazed at the laughing girl, slowly turned 
and walked off , muttering as he went : 

“I declar’ to grashus, if ol’ Mars didn’t commit a on- 
pardonable sin in spendin’ money on dat chil’ fur to eje- 
cate her, an’ it done her no mo’ good dan dat!” 

Many men of a much higher order of intelligence and 
morals have shown as fearful an obliquity of vision in 
justifying their prejudices and ignorance of Deity as this 
illiterate son of Africa did on this occasion. Ignorance 
and prejudice often blind the world to the teachings of 


GLADYS 


63 


God’s wonderful message to man. And self interest, in 
its many and varied ramifications, too frequently veers 
the individual from the plumb line of moral integrity. 

These reflections bring to mind an anecdote of two col- 
ored men which went the rounds of the comic papers some 
years since. As it was related, they went on a foraging 
expedition one night, and in their itinerary visited a wid- 
ow’s hen roost. One climbed the tree where the coveted 
hens were quietly perched and was rapidly passing the 
fowls down to his comrade on the ground beneath. The 
man in the tree was suddenly struck by a twinge of con- 
science, for the owner of the roost had often befriended 
him when he was in need. He paused in the gathering of 
the fowls and asked his partner in a low tone : 

“Say! Is it right to take all dese hens from dat po’ 
woman ? ’ 9 

The receiver of the stolen property thought for a mo- 
ment and replied: 

“Dat am a great moral questshun. Haint time to ’scuss 
it now ! Han ’ down anudder pullet ! 9 9 

And so it goes. Frequently poor, covetous human na- 
ture closes the argument by taking “another pullet.” 

Doctor Greydone arrived at Linwood Rest at 10 :30 p. m. 
The inmates had retired and were sleeping soundly. He 
rang the doorbell, and Aunt Alice responded with the in- 
quiry : 

“Who is it?” 

“Greydone. I wish to speak to Miss Daphne and Miss 
Gladys Gordon.” 

“Walk right into de parlor, Doctor,” said Aunt Alice. 
“I guess you’s col’, if it is summer.” 


64 


GLADYS 


“0 ! not cold at all Auntie. But wake up the ladies and 
have Miss Gladys dress warmly, for I want her to go with 
me on important business.” 

“What sort o’ bizness yo’ want ob dat chil’, I’m axin’,” 
queried Uncle Watt, who had come in. (His cabin was 
only a few feet back of the house.) 

“Why, Uncle,” replied Greydone, “a man is seriously 
wounded, and has requested to see Gladys before he dies. ’ ’ 

“She can’t do ’im no good, dat chil’ can’t! Better sen’ 
fo’ de preacher man, or took Miss Daphne an’ my ol’ 
’oman. Day can speechify fo’ ’im ef dat’s what he wants. 
But dat chil’! Humph!” 

“But, Uncle,” said the Doctor, “he wants to see Gladys 
to tell her something, perhaps for her benefit.” 

“I knows yo’ to be a gentleman, or dar’d be trubble 
’bout her gwine. Fo’ de Lawd, why can’t some ob de 
wimmin folks go wid her? I’s lookin’ arter dat poo’ ofin 
chil’ now, I tol’ yo’!” 

“Anyone can go that Gladys wishes,” said the Doctor. 

“Da is cummin’, Doctor,” called Aunt Alice. “Wattie, 
honey, hitch up de pony. I’m gwine along to see arter 
Miss Daphne, an’ she’s gwine to see arter Miss Gladys.” 

“An’ wo ’ll see arter yo’?” growled Uncle Watt, as he 
hurried off to “hitch up de pony.” 

Daphne came in. She showed in her manner much 
anxiety. 

“Good evening, Doctor,” said she. “What can be the 
cause of the man sending for Gladys?” 

“Indeed, I do not know darling. But his intentions are 
to do her a kindness, I judge, before he dies.” 


GLADYS 


65 


“He called her darlin’! An’ she tuk it!” soliloquized 
Aunt Alice, who overheard the conversation. “I’ll bet 
dat spells sumthin ’, or I ’m a bigger fool ’n yo ’ tuk me f o ’. 
Well, dar’s wus men dan him. But she’s de smartest.” 

By this time Gladys was ready. It was now eleven 
o’clock, but the moon, nearing her full, made a lovely 
night, and as the party climbed the mountain and passed 
over its summit “the moon’s silver hair flew uncurled” 
over the misty, mystic world before them. Had an im- 
aginative superstition held sway and rule on their minds, 
fancy could have counted brownies and spirits that walked 
o ’nights by the legion. But two of that party, at least, 
being all in all to each other, only thought of 

“The glory of God about them 
And the glory of gladness within.” 

Gladys was silently wondering what could be wanted of 
her by a strange man who was dying. 

Aunt Alice, shrewd and sharp for her race, and know- 
ing considerable of the history of the Gordons, was hoping 
and wishing that the man would do or say something 
which would, in a measure at least, lift the cloud from 
Gladys’ darkened life. In this her hopes were to be sin- 
gularly — . But we will not anticipate. 

In these different conditions of mind they arrived at 
the farm-house where the wounded man lay dying. At 
2:30 a. m. they entered the suffering one’s chamber, if 
such it could be called. He had. failed in strength greatly, 
and it required patience to hear what he had to say. He 
signified his desire that Doctor Greydone should bring 
Daphne and Gladys to his bedside. 


66 


GLADYS 


When they were seated, he proceeded to deliver his 
message. He often was compelled to stop talking and 
rest, for his strength was very far gone. The following is 
a close copy of his statement to Gladys, which was breath- 
lessly listened to by all the party. 

“About one year ago,” said the dying one, “Mrs. Gor- 
don and I met at the store on the top of the mountain. I 
was drinking and made some remarks not complimentary 
to her religion. She resented, and said that I was no gen- 
tleman. This angered me, and remembering the slander 
I had heard of her when she was a girl, but which I knew 
to be false, I told her to get Dan Bane to tell me that. She 
did not reply, but burst in tears. I was too hot with 
whisky to be ashamed, so I walked out of the store and 
went home. 

“My coupling her name with Dan Bane’s was told 
abroad, for there were itching ears to hear and ready 
tongues to carry the news. Mr. Gordon heard of it, and 
being of a sensitive disposition, not having the combative- 
ness to repel the insult, he left for — no one knows where. 
Had I been possessed of the right kind of courage I would 
have gone to Mrs. Gordon and done all I could to remedy 
the evil I had caused. But it takes more courage to apolo- 
gize for conscious wrong that it does to face a cannon. I 
kept putting it off from week to week, not knowing of her 
ill health till I heard of her death. In the meantime, about 
a week since, a man called at Mr. Gentry’s one night after 
supper. I went out to him as he sat on his horse at the 
gate in front of the house. He handed to me a package 
and requested me to convey it to Mrs. Gordon. I asked 
what it was. He replied that it was immaterial. I then 


GLADYS 


57 


asked who it was from. He gave me the same answer. I 
said : 

“ ‘Why not take it to her yourself?’ 

“ ‘I am due tomorrow morning at a point ten miles be- 
low Van Buren on the river,’ he replied. 

“I asked him what should I tell Mrs. Gordon. 

“He only said in reply, ‘Give her the package. Good- 
night. ’ And he was gone. 

“(About eleven o’clock, after I was shot, I heard his 
voice outside talking to some one. I could learn nothing 
of him, as no one seemed to recognize him.) 

‘ ‘ I went to my room after he rode off, opened the pack- 
age, and found it contained five one-hundred-dollar bills. 
In examining the paper in which the money was carefully 
wrapped, I discovered in pencil mark the letters ‘rdon,’ 
as if the first portion of the word had been torn off. It 
took but little thought to conclude that the package was 
from Mrs. Gordon’s husband, and I now saw an oppor- 
tunity to go to her and show her that, although I was not a 
gentleman, at least I was honest. I started on Monday 
afternoon to do that which honor and duty called for. On 
the way I met some of the boys, who informed me that 
there was to be a dance here that night, and they asked 
me to go with them. I told them that I had some business 
over the mountain. They insisted, and backed their in- 
sistence with a drink or two of whisky, that I could attend 
to that tomorrow. I yielded, turned my horse, rode back 
to Gentry’s, replaced the money in my valise and returned 
to the dance. You know the result.” 

He now, with an effort, handed the package to Gladys, 
and said: 


68 


GLADYS 


“Poor child! (I call yon a child because I am about 
twelve years the older.) I did your father, and especially 
your mother and you, a great wrong. I was too much of 
a coward to right that wrong while your mother was alive. 

I now make such reparation as lies in my power, and ask 
God and you to forgive me. The story about your mother 
was false in every particular. I know this, for its origin- 
ator told me so when on his deathbed from consumption. 
I hope to meet her where she can know my heart as I know 
it. Do you forgive me, Gladys?” 

The girl took the dying man’s hand, and said : 

“Yes ! Truly and from my heart. Do not let this trouble 
you any more.” 

‘ ‘ I thank you ! I must rest now. ’ ’ He said this faintly, 
but with a pleased smile. 

They withdrew from the room, leaving Aunt Alice to 
attend his wants, which seemed few, for he rapidly passed 
into a comatose state. 

Daylight was now fast coming, and it was evident that 
the end was but a few hours in the future. Aunt Alice 
watched him closely until after sunrise, when she called 
the Doctor and informed him of his patient’s labored 
breathing. Greydone took note of the pulse, and re- 
marked : 

“Two hours more, and he will have solved the great 
mystery. ’ ’ 

These two hours rapidly ran, to hide themselves, with all 
their tears and heartaches, with the fading and faded 
memories of a past eternity, and the great mystery for 
John Gates was solved, as solved it will be for you and 
' me ere long, gentle reader. 


GLADYS 


69 


Our party leisurely returned to Linwood Rest, leaving 
the funeral services in the care of a local minister and the 
good-hearted people of the vicinity. 

On the way home the conversation naturally ran on the 
events which had so filled the last few hours. Gladys 
handed the money which had so strangely come into her 
hands to Doctor Greydone, asking him to take charge of 
it and invest it for her as his judgment might decide best. 
Daphne was thinking over the sad death of John Gates 
and wondering why, in the providence of God, there should 
be such a prodigal waste of energy and talent in the world 
without any seeming benefit. Gates was a young man of 
good intentions and generous impulses in his more sober 
hours. He did not wish to do wrong, was not naturally of 
a vicious disposition, and had many friends and but few 
enemies. Yet on occasions of inebriety he was abrupt and 
inclined to resentfulness when attacked. Outspoken, fear- 
less, and at these times thoughtless, he frequently said hard 
things which had better been left unsaid, as in the case of 
his remarks to Mrs. Gordon at the mountain store, as re- 
lated. 

“ Doctor,’ ’ said Daphne as they quietly drove along the 
beautiful mountain road, “what would infinite justice and 
infinite mercy demand for the future status of a man who 
has lived and died as has John Gates ?” 

“Admitting the existence of a Deity possessed of such 
attributes, which I am more inclined to do since hearing 
Mr. Carlton,” said the Doctor, “from clouded, finite vis- 
ion it looks as if justice demanded a compensation for loss 
of time and opportunity commensurate with his capabil- 
ities. It is true that he 4 slept on his rights, ’ as the lawyers 


70 


GLADYS 


say, but a court of equity, it seems, would cure the defect 
in his title. Then the element of infinite mercy must be 
taken into count. And the finite must not attempt a puny 
effort to limit the infinite. But you meant to ask me, ’ ’ con- 
tinued he, “if Christian casuistry allows grounds for his 
salvation ? ’ ’ 

“That is the question in my mind,” said Daphne. 

“Well,” replied the Doctor, “I do not know. It may 
be that God will not permit a deflection of the established 
laws of redemption sufficient to meet a case like this with 
salvation. To these laws man is unquestionably bound; 
but God is not bound by any law, else he were not God. 
So, right here seems to be agnosticism’s only legitimate 
field in the moral universe. In this connection a quota- 
tion from H. M. Alden’s ‘God in His World’ suggests it- 
self. He says in the introduction to this valuable work: 
‘The genuine and sincere agnosticism is the meekness of 
those content with the unfoldings of a real life.’ Your 
duty and my duty is unquestioning obedience to God. If 
He saves others, outside of his commands to us, we can- 
not know it now. He will certainly do right and be mer- 
ciful, and we need not to worry over these cases. But 
whether that right and that mercy will include the sal- 
vation of John Gates we cannot tell. It may not be safe 
for you and me to risk it for ourselves.” 

“Then you are ‘almost persuaded to be a Christian,’ ex- 
claimed Daphne, with a glad light in her brown eyes. 

“I have been seriously thinking the matter over,” said 
Doctor Greydone. “And I have become convinced that if 
there be a God the only solution to the problem of human 
life, in its unbounded wideness, is the story of His deal- 


GLADYS 


71 


ings with and His will to man as told in the Bible. And 
further : That belief in the doctrines of the Bible is not 
required as a saving faith, but the belief in Jesus Christ, 
a person, as the Son of God, which involves the major 
proposition that there is a God, is the only article in the 
well informed, true Christian’s creed.” 

Then, where is your absolute standard of right ? ’ ’ anx- 
iously enquired Daphne. 

“ Jesus said, ‘I am the Truth,’ ’’replied he. “And if He 
be the Truth, being the Son of God, He is absolute Truth. 
And how should He be measured by a standard shorter 
and more imperfect in capability than the absolute wants, 
needs and longings of a weeping, wailing, groaning, sin- 
cursed race? While this truth may be, and doubtless is, 
absolute, and therefore infinite, the standard of measure 
cannot be so in our application of it, because the limits 
of its application are bounded, so far as we know, by time. 
This standard, though, so far as we can handle and com- 
pute its measurements, is perfectly filled by the life, death 
and resurrection of Him who said, ‘I am the way, the truth 
and the life.’ And just here, it seems to me, that this 
standard, infinite as it is, and therefore absolute, has 
marked on it by divine wisdom a series of units of meas- 
urement arranged in an ascending grade. The human 
mind in its finite limitations can only apprehend and ap- 
ply a very few of the simplest and lowest of these units. 
‘Do unto all men as you would that they should do unto 
you’ is one of these units on the scale of this absolute 
standard. And this unit is subdivided by the ethic rules 
of the decalogue : thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not kill, 
etc. But the first, or seeming first, unit, comprehensible to 


72 


GLADYS 


the human mind is, ‘ Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
all thy soul, mind and strength, and Him only shalt thou 
serve.’ Obedience to God’s commands is involved in the 
subdivision ‘serve.’ And beyond these two units, on this 
absolute standard, I fear it is impossible for us to go until 
we have put off the mortal and been clothed with immor- 
tality. ’ ’ 

“Then, if we conform our lives to His life and His will, 
we find such a fitness of His life to ours, as a standard, that 
we are perfectly satisfied, and the beautiful hope thus be- 
gotten is prophetic that this standard, in the eons of etern- 
ity, will prove absolute. We may not know it now, but 
we can accept it as true, and the acceptance is very satis- 
fying. Am I correct?” 

Daphne said this last very slowly, but with an expres- 
sion so sweet and so full of peace, that Doctor Greydone 
was melted to tears while looking at her angelic face. He 
was a strong man, but the brightness of a glorious faith 
had taken possession of his soul. He took her hand in his, 
pressed it warmly, and said: 

“0 where would I now be had I never seen the loveli- 
ness of my darling ’s face and faith ! ’ ’ 

It seemed to him that he had experienced another sweet 
betrothal. 

Uncle Watt greeted the party’s arrival by saying: 

“Yo’ uns all got ba’k safe, I ’spect. I see yo’ all heah.” 

“Wattie, honey,” interrupted Aunt Alice, “Yo’ ’ten’ to 
de chillun. I’ll onharness de pony. I ’clare to grashus I 
mos’ dun up.” 

“I should think so, Auntie,” said Daphne. “You have 


GLADYS 


73 


not slept a wink or rested a moment since we left home, 
and that is too much for one of your age.” 

“I dun tol’ yo’ sumbody ort to go ’long an’ look arter 
yo’, ol’ ’oman,” said Uncle Watt. 

“Nebber min’, honey. I’s still able to took keer o’ my- 
se’f. Miss Daphne, yo’ took de folks in. I’ll brung de 
wraps an’ shawls.” 

Just then the hired man came up and took charge of 
Greydone’s team, and Uncle Watt proceeded to “onhar- 
ness de pony.” 

The hired man’s wife had prepared a substantial din- 
ner, and after making their respective toilets, seats were 
taken at the table, where Aunt Alice attended to the wants 
of the hungry trio. They had had no breakfast. 

“Aunt Alice,” commanded Daphne, “go and eat. You 
are as hungry as we are. We will wait on ourselves.” 

“Don’ bother, honey. I’ll eat plenty by’m by,” said 
she, and she fussed around the table, helping each one as 
much as possible. 

“Doctor,” said Daphne, as she poured for him a second 
cup of tea, “ I do not like these country dances. So much 
trouble seems to come of them.” 

“Well,” replied the Doctor, “the country dance does 
not produce the trouble so much as the country whisky. 
And with all its drawbacks, I think the country dance, 
which is usually the cotillion, is less reprehensible, on 
moral grounds, than the city waltz. What do you think, 
Aunt Alice?” 

“Doctor, yo’ don’ ’spect me to ’spress my ’pinion ’fo’ 
comp’ny, does yo’?” 

“Certainly I do,” the Doctor assured her. 


74 


GLADYS 


“Well, den! Ef dey’d leave de dram at home or at de 
still house, dar mouten’t be much harm in de cotilyun. 
But I ’low I don’ want to see no man’s arm ’roun’ my 
gal’s waist ’cept it be her pap’s or her brudder’s arm — or 
her husban’s when it please de Lawd to give her one. An’ 
not him ontil she’s got hirq fas’ tied by de law. Dat’s my 
’pinion.” 

“A pretty good opinion, Auntie,” said Daphne, with 
one of her sweet smiles, which always made Doctor Grey- 
done ’s heart put in several extra beats. 

The repast being finished, Greydone arose and said : 

“I have some patients to visit this afternoon, also some 
matters of business to look after; so I bid you all good- 
day. Will see you again shortly, I hope. Sleep and rest 
must be your employment till tomorrow morning.” 

“But you, Doctor? You should sleep and rest too,” 
plead Daphne. 

They walked out to the gate together, where the Doc- 
tor’s rig was waiting him. 

“Never mind me,” said he. “I will rest and sleep too, 
darling.” 

“I don’t want you to be ill from overwork — or any other 
cause,” she anxiously said. 

“God bless your sweet heart! I will take care of my- 
self for your dear sake,” he assured her, as he pressed her 
hand in a second good-bye. 


CHAPTER VII. 


I will make a man more precious than gold. 

— Isaiah 13:12. 

Major Charles Galloway was an officer in the First Ark- 
ansas Cavalry Volunteers during the Civil War. He also 
served in the United States Army as a private under Gen- 
eral Kearny in the Mexican War. This division of the 
army marched from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, to Santa 
Fe, which city it captured on the 18th day of August, 1846. 
General Kearny pushed on west, intending to aid in the re- 
duction of California, then a Mexican province. Three 
hundred miles west of Santa Fe he was met by the cele- 
brated scout, Kit Carson, and learned that California had 
already been subjugated. Notwithstanding this informa- 
tion, he selected one hundred men, and with these con- 
tinued his march to the Pacific Coast. That portion of 
the army to which Major Galloway belonged returned to 
the states by a route which ran about one hundred miles 
north of Santa Fe. When a military force is marching in 
an unknown country, its route is always, if possible, select- 
ed and shown by a competent guide. The guide, or scout 
as he was called, for this expedition was one of those 
hardy, intelligent frontiersmen whose life had been passed 


76 


GLADYS 


in the territory they were now traversing. Galloway, who 
had been raised in Missouri, was a brave, daring, intelli- 
gent man who always wished to be informed on every- 
thing that came his way, and on every country in which 
chance threw him. He lost no opportunity to ride at the 
front of the column when marching, and frequently, dur- 
ing a halt for rest, or at camp for night, engaged the scout 
in conversation, thereby gaining a vast amount of infor- 
mation relative to the topography, resources and fauna of 
the far west. One night the troops camped some twenty 
miles west of a Spanish village named Toas, usually pro- 
nounced Touse by the inhabitants. The scout informed 
Galloway that about five miles from their present camp 
he had, some years since, picked up in the bed of a ravine 
several nuggets of virgin gold, but the Comanche Indians 
were then very troublesome, and even at that time had just 
given him a hard race for his life. He was making his 
way from the Gila River to a point on the Cimarron River 
on some business for his employer when these cruel and 
treacherous savages struck his trail. He had made a tan- 
gent and thrown them at fault, and was resting his bron- 
cho in the gorge, while holding the rein for him to graze 
a bit, when his eye caught the glitter of the precious metal 
in a water-worn pothole in the bedrock of the branch. 
Scooping out the contents of this pocket with his hands, 
he found four good-sized nuggets of gold, the largest of 
which weighed ten dollars and thirty-nine cents. The 
other three ranged in value each from three dollars to six 
dollars and fifty cents. He had ever since intended to re- 
visit the place, but the red men were so vicious, and hav- 
ing constant employment, the trip had been deferred from 


GLADYS 


77 


year to year till the present time. When the troops ar- 
rived at Santa Fe, Galloway and the scout had become 
fast friends, and had formed a compact to raise a company, 
after the angry results of the war had subsided, and de- 
velop the mines, which the scout assured his friend must 
be very rich. 

From time to time subseqent to his discharge from the 
army, the Major received letters from his far-west friend, 
but he was always on a scout or acting as guide to some 
party crossing the plains to the newly discovered Eldorado 
on the Pacific Coast, when his last letter came to hand in 
1852. This missive informed Galloway that the scout had 
finally concluded to try his own luck with the spade and 
washer in a claim in California, the result of which was 
that in the short space of a few months he had “struck it 
rich,” and now was worth half a million. Enclosed in 
the letter was a crude map of the Toas mine, and a cordial 
relinquishment to his friend of all interest therein. The 
letter closed with a kindly invitation to Galloway to visit 
the writer in his home on the sunset slope of the Rocky 
Mountains, and make an effort to successfully woo the 
god of wealth to his own benefit. 

The Major wrote in reply that he had, like the man in 
the Scriptures, married him a wife, and could not come 
now, but would take the matter under advisement for fu- 
ture action. Thus the correspondence closed. 

Galloway bought a farm near the mouth of Flat Creek, 
a tributary of White River, which traversed Barry County, 
Missouri, to the east, and settled down to the duties of a 
disciple of Agricola; but he never gave up the dream of 
wealth to be derived from the Toas mine. 


78 


GLADYS 


In the long evenings at home, when the neighbors would 
call for a social visit, as the custom was, he would regale 
them with an account of his adventures as a soldier in the 
Mexican War, and never omitted the story of the Toas 
mine. He preserved the map which the guide had given 
him, carefully wrapped and protected, and always told his 
listeners that some time he would go to New Mexico and 
get rich. 

Thus the years crept on, until the South and the North 
of his own loved country stood up in anger against each 
other, and grappled and clawed and tore at brothers’ 
heartstrings, until pallid lips and glazed eyes, as jewels of 
death in crimson settings, bedecked fair Columbia’s grief- 
throbbing bosom. 

Galloway espoused the Union cause, and soon the First 
Arkansas Cavalry Volunteers was raised, equipped and 
officered, with him carrying a major’s commission in his 
pocket and the leaf epaulettes on his shoulders. 

His field of operation was in that territory lying betwixt 
the Arkansas River on the south and Springfield, Missouri, 
on the north, with headquarters the larger part of the time 
at Fayetteville, Arkansas. During his stay at this post, 
when no active duty demanded attention, he would often 
compare the present military experiences with those he 
had undergone as a soldier in the Mexican War. These 
talks, as a matter of course, brought up the story of the 
Toas mine, and several officers and friends agreed to ac- 
company him on this treasure hunt as soon as the war 
should close. 

Our quandam friend, Carrol Gordon, was then compara- 
tively a young man, and being intelligent and a good 






















































































the old postoffice OCCUPIED during the battle of prairie grove, bullet holes still to be seen in door. 



F DOTTIEST FIGHTING AT BATTLE OF PRAIRIE GROVE, WASHINGTON COUNTY, ARK. 

















✓ 























































































































GLADYS 


79 


horseman, had secured the position of hostler to the Major, 
which position enabled him to support his wife and little 
curly-headed girl, Gladys, in a very comfortable way. 
Thus thrown at any and all times in Major Galloway’s 
company, Gordon learned the legend of this golden story. 

On one occasion, the Major, with his battalion, was ab- 
sent several days on a scout in the White River country 
east of Fayetteville, and had left Gordon in charge of his 
tent, with orders to sleep therein for protection for his 
equipments. 

The latter had not been long in the tent until his eye 
caught sight of the map which he had frequently seen the 
Major exhibit to his friends. It lay on an improvised desk 
made of a dry-goods box, and he thought no harm of care- 
fully examining the tracings. While so doing, he mechan- 
ically drew from his pocket a pencil, as if to write — paused 
— then mused: 

“Why not make a copy? It might be of benefit, should 
the Major never go to search for the mine.” 

To act on the desire for a copy was but the work of a 
short time, and he carefully replaced the original in the 
position in which he had found it. 

The battalion, with the Major in command, returned 
that same evening, and on entering the tent the officer saw 
his map lying where he had carelessly left it. At this in- 
stant the hostler entered to inform his employer that his 
horse must be shod before he could be of further service. 

“All right,” said the Major. “Take him to the smith in 
the morning and have him shod.” 

“Say!” said he, as Gordon was about to leave the tent, 
“has any one been in here since I left?” 


80 


GLADYS 


“No one but myself,” replied Gordon. 

“I must have been very careless then. I left this map 
lying out on my desk. Did you examine it ? ” 

“Yes, sir. As you left it out, I supposed there would 
be no harm in looking at it.” 

“No harm at all. Indeed, you may make one of our 
company to go on this perhaps wild-goose chase, if you 
wish.” 

‘ ‘ I shall be very glad to go, ’ ’ said Gordon. 

“Well! well!” said the Major. “You are welcome to 
go, and if I should not go, on account of unforseen cir- 
cumstances, you are welcome to all the knowledge you can 
get from this,” tapping the map with his finger. 

“Thank you,” said Gordon. “I may avail myself of it 
some day, after you have failed to use it.” And he went 
out. 

This man Gordon was a very singularly constituted per- 
son. He was of that temperament which long holds its 
possessor to a routine, unless roused by some sharp cir- 
cumstance which acts as a shock. Then he would act 
quickly and impulsively. The year the war commenced 
the death of a loved sister lifted him from his bachelor 
meditations and directed his affections to his future wife, 
on account of the latter’s kindly care of the former while 
she lay fatally ill for a short time only, where the two 
were boarding. A month after the sister’s death he pro- 
posed, was accepted and married. A year sped by, and 
the little girl baby, whom they named Gladys, came to 
bless their home, with her cute ways and loving little 
heart. 





GLADYS; AGED 3 YEARS 






* 






























. 














, 













































































GLADYS 


81 


But the Civil War, with all its horrors, closed, and as 
those who wept for the missing ones who never more met 
them at the old hearthstone were, one by one, laid to rest 
and to sleep in the silent beds where no tears salt the pain- 
less pillows, the rancor of hate faded into a saddened mem- 
ory with those who still survived to wear the gray of the 
hairs over the gray of the hearts, and Gladys grew to be 
a lovely child of fifteen years. 

Then came another shock to Carrol Gordon. This time 
it was the knowledge of the slander hinted at by John 
Gates, and, crushed, as he thought, in the eyes of his fel- 
lowmen, without hint or warning he fled to bury himself, 
he hoped, from his deep degradation. 

Early in the month of August, it being a month subse- 
quent to the death of John Gates, a man was sitting in the 
shade of an awning in Albuquerque, New Mexico, quietly 
smoking a cigar, when he was accosted by a younger man, 
who was dressed in the plainsman’s style of sombrero, 
leggings and large spurs. 

“Good evening, sir,” said the young man. 

“Good evening,” was the response. 

“Live here?” 

“No.” 

“Where’s your home?” 

“Have none. What do you want to know for?” 

“Didn’t know but you might help a fellow who’s out of 
a job.” 

“What can you do?” 

“Most anything that needs to be done out here, I guess.” 

“Can you fight?” 

“Yes!” 


82 


GLADYS 


“And dig gold?” 

“Would like to try.” 

“Are you honest?” 

“May be you think I’m not!” with a flushed face. 

“Didn’t know. Thought I would ask. You look hon- 
est.” 

“People deceive their looks sometimes.” 

“I know. But if you want to dig gold and fight, I’ll 
risk you.” 

“ Would ’t mind a heap of the first and a little of the 
last, but could end it over if I had to.” 

“Where are you stopping?” 

“Right here now. Maybe anywhere else in an hour, if 
you don’t sick me on to some kind of game.” (A phrase, 
“seek him,” of encouragement to hunting dogs.) 

“I think I can put you on to a track that isn’t as cold 
as you might suppose. Had dinner?” 

“No. No spondulix to buy one with.” 

“Come on!” said the man, as he arose and walked to- 
ward a restaurant. 

As they entered the eating house the older man said to 
the waiter: 

“Give this man a good dinner and put up grub for two 
sufficient for four days. Take your change out of that,” 
throwing down a ten-dollar gold piece. 

While the young man was eating, the other went to the 
livery stable and ordered his two horses saddled and made 
ready for a journey. Returning to the restaurant, he said 
to his newly acquired protege : 

“Fill up; you’ll need it.” 


GLADYS 


83 


All right. I’m full,” was the reply; and he rose from 
the table, at the same time saying : 1 ‘ Lead out ; I am with 
you. Wait a minute, though, till I get my horse.” 

‘0! You have a horse? I might have known it by 
your spurs and leggings. So much the better, if he’s got 
bottom. Has he been fed today, or is he as you were, out 
of cash?” 

“He’s all right. I gave my last half dollar for his feed, 
just before I met you.” 

“I guess he’ll do. Though he may drink himself, he 
wants his horse to eat first,” said the older man to him- 
self. Then aloud to his comrade: 

“Have a glass before we start?” 

“Please excuse me. I will wait for you to get a drink; 
but I — I’ll not take anything, thank you.” 

“Better still.” (Aside). 

They left Albuquerque, going north, and rode thirty 
miles by sunset. The third horse aided considerably by 
carrying, as a pack, their supplies. Both men were well 
armed, and each had two blankets and a long lariat. The 
latter was necessary to tether the horses, so they might 
graze, any other feed being out of the question. The sec- 
ond night out, after dark, they reached Santa Fe, where 
their stock of provisions was increased. A little bread, 
sufficient to last them a day or two, some salt, five pounds 
of bacon, and twenty-five pounds of flour formed the bulk 
of their store. For meat they depended largely on game, 
with which the country abounded in great plenty. 

The older of the couple was taciturn, and the young 
man, taking the cue, did not attempt to force a conversa- 
tion. Their course from Santa Fe was north, and the 


84 


GLADYS 


second night out from that place our travelers camped a 
few miles west of Toas. After the horses had been grazed 
and secured for the night and their simple supper dis- 
posed of, they prepared for sleep, by each one rolling him- 
self in his blankets and lying down on the ground. 

‘ ‘ Be still ! ’ ’ whispered the leader. ‘ ‘ I hear horses ’ feet ! ’ ’ 

They listened in silence, and soon a horseman passed 
within a few hundred yards of their camp. 

“That fellow is trying to follow us for some bad pur- 
pose, I fear,” resumed he. “I saw him a few miles back, 
and I know from his actions he means us no good. I am 
sure he is the same person whom I saw watching us at 
Santa Fe whilst we were replenishing our provisions.” 

“What can he want of us?” asked the younger man. 

“Ah! my boy. He is a bad man and suspicions some- 
thing of our mine.” 

‘ ‘ 1 did not know we had a mine ! ’ 9 

“I believe I did not tell you about it. But I will tomor- 
row, as we ride along. I was acting as if you knew the 
whole thing.” 

They dropped to sleep, and daylight was fast showing in 
the east when they awoke. The horses were lariated to 
fresh grass, a hasty meal prepared, eaten, and soon they 
were on their journey. The course taken was a few de- 
grees north of west, and only a dim trail marked the way. 
Believing their supposed pursuer had passed further to 
the north, they rode leisurely along, and the young man 
heard the story of the mine, as related in the former part 
of this chapter. He was intensely interested, but he held 
his peace, and the narrator closed the history by stating 
that he left Arkansas a year since, and by persistent search 


GLAD VS 


85 


had found the spot described in the map. He then told of 
his work during the winter, which had been a mild one, 
and that through the spring and summer just passed he 
had worked along this same gulch and panned out over 
ten thousand dollars. He further said that about the mid- 
dle of July he had cached his findings, except a sufficiency 
for the purchase of supplies, and had gone to Santa Fe 
for that purpose. And while on that business, a half-blood 
Spanish and Mexican caught sight of the nuggets he was 
exchanging, and had been dogging him ever since, trying 
every scheme known to a wily nature to wring the secret 
from him. 

‘ ‘ I gave him the slip, ’ ’ continued he, ‘ 4 went to my cache 
in the mountains, and took out seven hundred dollars’ 
worth of the gold. This I exchanged for greenbacks, five 
hundred of which I sent to a person in Arkansas whom I 
wished to favor, and the balance I have been spending at 
Albuquerque for expenses while trying to find some one 
whom I could trust to assist me ; for there is lots of gold 
for a little work, I tell you!” And his eyes sparkled as 
he thought of his great and good fortune. 

‘‘Would you mind telling me to whom you sent the 
money?” asked the young man. “I am from Arkansas, 
and may be able to give you some information of them.” 

“I would like to try you a little further before telling 
you much more. It might have been better, too, if I had 
tried you before we started.” 

“Fire away!” calmly remarked the young man. “I 
am ready when you are.” And he met the scrutinizing 
look of his employer unflinchingly. 


86 


GLADYS 


“When in Arkansas, where did yon live?” jerked out 
his interlocutor and self-constituted judge. 

“On the Boston Mountain,” was the quick reply. 

‘ ‘ Who did you know there ? ’ ’ 

“0! lots of people. Mr. Yoe, who owned the mill on 
Lee’s Creek; Doctor Greydone, and many more, if these 
are not enough.” 

“Did you know Mrs. Gordon, who lived north of the 
mountain ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ She was my second cousin, but she is dead. That fool 
husband of hers run off and left her a year or more ago 
because he heard some talk about her which hadn ’t a word 
of truth in it.” 

Here he looked at his questioner and saw that it was 
only with a great effort he could keep his saddle. The 
young man caught the bridle of his partner’s horse, 
stopped him and his own, leaped to the ground, and re- 
ceived the now falling man in his arms. Gently laying him 
on the ground he sprinkled on his face some water from a 
canteen and gave him some to drink. With difficulty the 
almost swooning man swallowed some of the water, and 
it revived him a little. After gasping several times, he 
gained strength to exclaim: 

“0! my poor, poor wife! Are you gone forever? And 
I judged you so harshly! May God forgive me!” 

The young man was dazed, for this was Carrol Gordon, 
the husband of the cousin for whom he had committed a 
crime, and himself was Edwin Corwin. He was shrewd 
enough to keep silent until Gordon should revive and the 
force of the shock should be spent. Tears, bitter, burning 
tears, came at last, and he so far recovered as to be able 


GLADYS 


87 


to ride, but he was in no condition to meet the exigencies 
of an encounter with the straggling Indians who infested 
the country. Therefore it was thought best to seek a se- 
cluded and secure spot where range for their horses and 
water for all was sufficient, and rest till the next day. 
Turning to the southwest from the path they had followed, 
a beautiful hidden cove was reached after traveling a dis- 
tance of four miles, and camp was made, and the horses 
lariated to feed at will on the succulent herbage. 

An hour or so of rest passing, some coffee was boiled in 
a quart tin cup, of which the two drank freely. Gordon 
resumed the conversation by asking the young man his 
name. 

“Since fate has thus thrown us so strangely together,’ ’ 
said Corwin, “I may as well tell you that my name is Ed- 
win Corwin, and I am your wife’s second cousin.” 

“0! Mercy!” said Gordon. “I have often heard of 
you, but never saw you before our meeting at Albuquerque. 
Can you tell me anything of my little Gladys ? ’ ’ 

“Yes. After her mother’s death, Miss Daphne Ray- 
mond took her to her own home, and she is in good hands, 
I assure you.” 

“May God bless that young woman. But how came you 
away out here in New Mexico?” 

Corwin then related the difficulty he had had with John 
Gates, reserving nothing that would be of interest to the 
grief-stricken man. 

“As soon as I realized what I had done,” continued he, 
“I mounted my horse and struck out through the Indian 
Territory, determined not to be caught. I rode almost 
day and night, frequently doing without anything to eat. 


88 


GLADYS 


I happened to have about twenty dollars in my pocket, 
and this lasted me until I arrived at Albuquerque, when 
I met you, having, as I told you, spent my last half dollar 
for my horse about an hour before I fell in with you. It 
is strange, isn ’t it ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Gordon. “But while my poor wife always 
spoke of your kind heart, she said you drank a great deal, 
and at such times you were irritable and cross, especially 
to those whom you disliked.” 

“That last is too true. But as soon as I had time, on 
that fateful morning, to recover from my drinking, I took 
a solemn vow never to let another drop of the accursed 
stuff pass my lips. And God helping me I will keep my 
pledge so long as I live on the earth.” 

“May the Lord help you!” fervently ejaculated Carrol 
Gordon. 

That day and the next night was spent in quiet and re- 
pose, so far as these could be had under the press of 
emotions roused by the singular circumstances which en- 
vironed the two men. 

On the following morning it was determined to proceed 
to the mine, work until cold weather came on, then take 
the proceeds of their labor, equally divide the profits, and 
then, if it should be considered safe for Corwin, return to 
their old homes. Their destination was reached without 
further incident or adventure worthy of note, and work 
was commenced and carried on with very gratifying re- 
sults. 

During the remainder of the summer and the early 
autumn, the hermits tried to keep the days of the month 
and the days of the weeks ; but how correct was their cal- 


GLAD VS 


89 


endar we are unable to say. On the day which their count 
gave as the Lord ’s day, they passed the time reading from 
a Bible which Gordon had bought soon after his arrival a 
year previous. He had, with his wife, been baptised by a 
local preacher soon after their marriage, but had not been 
a regular attendant at service, from the fact that he had 
lived some miles from any church. Corwin had never 
made any profession of religion or piety; but now he 
seemed much changed and interested. Their readings 
were from the plain, simple word of God without note or 
comment; and, as a matter of course, from their isolated 
situation they were saved from the exegeses and cavils of 
sectarianism and the schoolmen. 

After a month or more had passed, on a Sunday, while 
they were talking over what they had read, Corwin asked 
Gordon how it would be if a man very much desired to 
confess his Savior in baptism and there was no preacher 
to be had? 

‘ ‘ Why ! ’ ’ replied Gordon, ‘ ‘ I don ’t know, but maybe we 
can find out.” 

He picked up his Bible, and as it happened, opened at 
the eighth chapter of Acts. His eye caught the narrative 
telling how those who were scattered abroad, on account 
of the persecution by Saul, went everywhere preaching the 
word. On reading this statement, Gordon remarked that 
he found nothing in the case of these persecuted people 
about any special authority from men of the church to 
preach. 

4 ‘And if they preached and taught,” said he, “certainly 
they did all else necessary to make Christians of those 


90 


GLADYS 


who desired to become such after hearing the gospel. So 
I judge they baptized all who applied. ” 

“ Well ! ’ ’ said Corwin, ‘ ‘ will you baptize me!” 

On the impulse of the moment his comrade said: 

“If you believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and 
your Saviour, I will.” 

‘I certainly believe it. Come on and baptize me,” re- 
plied Corwin. 

They walked to the little stream some twenty paces dis- 
tant, and there under the silence and shadow of the rock- 
ribbed mountains, alone and unseen except by the awful 
eye of God, young Corwin was laid beneath the wave of 
water, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the 
Holy Spirit. 

Reader, was he then a Christian; and if so, to what 
branch of the church did he belong? 

As a matter of course, Corwin could tell Gordon nothing 
of the money sent to Mrs. Gordon. The funds had been 
entrusted to a friend of Gordon who had some claims in 
real estate lying on the Arkansas River, and as he was 
going there to settle these claims a good opportunity of- 
fered to furnish Mrs. Gordon and Gladys with sufficient 
means for a year’s living in a simple way. This friend 
had been charged by Gordon not on any account to reveal 
himself or anything concerning the husband to Mrs. Gor- 
don. So he took the chance of sending the money by the 
hand of John Gates, as previously told. It was Gordon’s 
intention never to let his wife know of his whereabouts, 
but to keep a knowledge of Glady’s location and supply 
her with the means of acquiring a good education and keep 
her and her mother from want. He also had arranged 


GLADYS 


91 


with a prominent merchant in Santa Fe that in case of his 
own death Gladys should be placed in possession of all 
monies and other effects of which he might die seized. 

While slow in action and somewhat dilatory, except 
when under the impulse given by startling circumstances, 
he was a careful man, and one of good intentions. In the 
years of his married life, on account of his wife’s failing 
health, and consequent expenses for medicines, and other 
outlays, he had saved but little money. It is true that he 
had bought and paid for forty acres of land, which fur- 
nished a little home for wife and child, and on which they 
eked out a scant living after he deserted them, until the 
woman, crowded by poverty and harried by loneliness and 
a sense of wrong treatment from him, had laid down the 
burdens of life in an unequal and fruitless struggle. 


CHAPTER VHI. 


Who that sees the meanness of our politics, but only congrat- 
ulates Washington that ... he was laid sweet in his grave, the 
hope of humanity not yet subjugated in him. 

— Emerson. 

Doctor Greydone immediately took legal steps, and was 
appointed guardian for Gladys, with power, as curator ad 
hoc, to invest two hundred dollars, of her money in im- 
proving the little farm to which she fell heir by the death 
of her mother, the title deed to the same being in the lat- 
ter’s name. 

The affairs of the little estate being properly adjusted, 
it was determined to place the young girl at school in 
Fayetteville, as being less a draft on her limited means 
than would a boarding school in a distant city. It was 
calculated that the rents of her farm would pay tuition 
and purchase school supplies; and by securing board for 
her with a friend of Daphne, the latter and Doctor Grey- 
done would donate sufficient to pay for the same, thus 
helping the friend and the lonely one at the same time, 
both of whom needed the aid. This friend kept a few 
select boarders, and offered that if Gladys would aid her of 
mornings and evenings the board bill should be merely 
nominal. To all this Gladys gladly assented, and every- 


GLADYS 


93 


thing was placed in a satisfactory status quo. — And the 
old world rolled on with its intricate machinery, grinding 
out smiles and tears, laughter and groans, according to 
the grist thrown into its insatiable hopper. 

Doctor Greydone, who was strictly ethical in his meth- 
ods of practice, could never be embroiled in the petty jeal- 
ousies so common and so disreputable to the practice of 
medicine in the country, attended to the wants of the 
poor and the rich alike. He did not read the apostle’s 
definition of pure and undefiled religion as paraphrased 
to mean the visiting of the fatherless and the widow in 
their affliction, and take everything you can lay hands on 
to pay the bill. 

Once or twice a week he drove across the mountain to 
Linwood Rest, and one of these visits always occurred on 
Sunday. And when Daphne could make it at all possible, 
the drive on this day was continued to church, with her as 
a companion, either at Fayetteville or some place of wor- 
ship in the country. The influence of these two devoted 
young people was thus largely thrown into the scales on 
the side of a better and higher life. If the sermon or ser- 
vice was not up to their conceived notions of Scriptural 
requirement and their keen sense of the Christian fitness 
of things, they avoided any and all captious criticisms, and 
so increased the good will of all church-going people of 
whatever creed and denomination. 

As a matter of course, in their communions with each 
other they did not hesitate to express their views freely 
of all that was said and done. But these talks were of the 
kindliest and most charitable nature, and always took into 


94 


GLADYS 


consideration the mental and moral capacities of those who 
worshipped ever so singularly. 

Nothing had yet been said by either regarding their in- 
tentions as to a public obedience to God’s word. But an 
interested and observant looker-on, could such have been 
permitted the liberty, would have seen that, like two chil- 
dren, they were, hand in hand and soul with soul, walking 
their first steps, each supporting the other, towards that 
beautiful light that shines as a glory from the life of Jesus, 
and by whose brightness they were spelling out, as stud- 
ents in the school of the angels, the wonderful words of 
the Lamb of God, who said : ‘ ‘ Thus it becometh us to ful- 
fill all righteousness.” 

On the Fourth of July following the death of John 
Gates, there was a picnic at Toe’s Mill on Lee’s Creek. 
The convivialities were held a little distance from the mill 
in a magnificent grove of oak, elm, cherry, walnut and 
basswood trees; and the young people, and many of the 
parents, came from far and near to spend a day of joyous 
relaxation from the rounds of duty made necessary by a 
life on the farm. Well-filled baskets of eatables, substan- 
tial and otherwise, provided by the farmers’ wives and 
daughters, were unloading all the morning of this national 
day. Like the Smith family who came to hear the will 
read, they came on foot, on horseback, in carriages and 
buggies, in buckboards, gigs and lumber wagons. They 
came from the south, north, east and west. They came 
from all directions and from between all points of the 
compass. They came laughing, talking, whistling and 
singing; they came in glee and gladness, with sighs and 
sadness (for misery loves company, too), and all around 


GLADYS 


95 


and altogether one was reminded of “how the waters came 
down at Lodore. ’ ’ They were dressed like summer fairies 
and winter sprites, overdressed and underdressed, and 
some not much dressed at all. There were there the one- 
gallowsed boy and the two-gallowsed man, and vice versa. 
They were the booted and bootless, the shod and the shoe- 
less ; the simpering maid and the boisterous boy ; the gray- 
haired father and the pert Aleck son; the stout mother and 
the slim daughter ; the saint and the sinner ; the hypocrite 
and the Pharisee ; the Sadducee and those who, like Paul, 
‘ ‘ became all things to all men, that they might save some ’ ’ 
dimes by selling ginger cakes and cider to the small young 
man and his sweetheart who was there with him and out 
for a day of jollity and freedom from all care except the 
scheming necessary to induce her escort to spend his money 
freely for her gratification. Yes, they were all there, to 
cheer the speakers, hear the eagle scream, eat ice cream 
and scream themselves hoarse, purely and simply for the 
fun of exhibiting a now boiling over patriotism, which had 
come near being scorched in that hot time betwixt ’61 
and ’63. 

The oratory of the day was all that could be desired; 
and the handshaking by those who had an eye on the votes 
for the next election was in excess of the demand. Shrewd 
men, who knew better, but who cared little for the moral 
phase of politics, singled out those who were supposed to 
have influence in rounding up the natives when voting 
time came and quietly buttonholed them aside to a point 
free from observation, where some inquiries were made, 
ostensibly of a business nature. On closing these inter- 
views the officeseeker, always knowing his man, produced 


96 


GLADYS 


a tickler of the very best brandy or old rye, which he had 
brought along, you know, because his physician (poor 
fool !) had prescribed it for some stomach trouble or other, 
or for an ingrowing toenail (just as good for one as for the 
other) ; and as it was a hot day, and heat was very injur- 
ious to health, and brandy, and especially as good an arti- 
cle as this is, which came all the way from France, and, 
as a matter of course, having come from France it was 
French brandy, genuine, you know, was good for the heat, 
which unfortunately was always an attendant on Fourths 
of July, and while he, the politician, scarcely ever tasted 
any liquor at all — indeed, he could drink it or let it alone, 
and — 

“Would my friend take a spoonful to keep the heat 
from striking in on him?” 

“ I do feel a little pain in my knee, which I know comes 
from the heat,” coughing a little, “and I’ll take a few 
drops — just a very few. But don’t mention it, for you 
know our minister is so opposed to any member of his 
congregation drinking liquor.” 

“ 0 ! I shall never say one word that would place as 
good a friend as you are in an embarassing position with 
his minister. Rest perfectly easy on that score. By the 
way, I have heard Captain M. mentioned as a probable 
candidate for State Senator from our district. How does 
he stand with your neighbors ? Take another taste of this. 
You look rather feeble today. Must have got too hot run- 
ning around talking to your friends, which I know are 
numerous. Take quite a little dram ; you need it ! A man 
of your influence must not let the heat overcome him and 


GLADYS 


97 


get sick on the Fourth of July, when his district needs his 
watchful eye so very much.” 

And while the shrewd one is talking, the fool victim has 
guzzled down enough of the fiery liquid to open the flood 
gates of his confidence, and he assures the shrewd one 
that, “while Captain M. is a most. estimable man, and is 
true blue as a party man, I, sir, have long since made my 
choice for that responsible position, and as I am a plain 
man, sir, permit me to say, sir, that that choice has fallen 
on you, sir!” 

The shrewd one stammers, and makes a feeble effort to 
refuse the honor, but is stopped with: 

“No refusal, sir! No refusal! My people will not hear 
of it. Indeed, sir, I almost believe they would nominate 
you if, with all of my influence, I should oppose you!” 

This is a crusher to the shrewd one, and he yields to 
the inevitable ! 

“Well! My friend,” says he, “you seem so determined 
on this, and, while I did not have a thought of offering 
myself, I suppose I must consent to be sacrificed. Take 
another little taste; the heat is still very hot!” 

“Indeed, you must!” drinking and smacking his lip. 
“That is fine liquor!” 

They walk back to the grounds, and the shrewd one 
selects another fool for a victim. A few days after the 
above electioneering process, the most influential paper 
in the “deestrict” comes out with the following double- 
leaded editorial: 

“Our esteemed and public spirited fellow citizen, Col- 
onel Shootemonthewing, has been pressingly solicited to 
allow his name to go before the coming convention as a 


98 


GLADYS 


candidate for nomination for the honorable office of State 
Senator. His high moral character and unquestioned in- 
tegrity, taken with his well known efforts to forward the 
public good in every way possible, gives an assurance that 
if nominated and elected his party will ever be proud of 
its record in this behalf and will never have cause to regret 
a misplaced confidence. ’ ’ 

And the editor’s worn-out purse is swelled to bursting 
almost by having to hold, for a short time only, ten bright, 
new, silver dollars, which, like the “ten little injins,” are 
rapidly reduced in number, one by one. For they go in 
liquidation of grocer’s bills, with the addition of an extra 
glass of beer and an occasional cocktail to soothe his 
wounded conscience — for that much abused individual, 
ye editor, does sometimes have a conscience, though in 
campaign times it often suffers the stretching process, 
almost as much so as his purse did with the ten dollars. 

The author, once upon a time, was nominated for the 
office of State Senator. A few days after his party had 
done itself this great honor, a delegation of ministers, in- 
cognito, interviewed him for the purpose of learning his 
position on the liquor question. He thought he would be 
smart, and honest at the same time, so he informed his 
interviewers that if the liquor traffic wished any favors 
it would be the part of wisdom to keep him at home. He 
was taken at his word, and the returns showed over one 
thousand votes as a majority for his opponent, who, if 
honest, was not smart enough to make a political fool of 
himself. 

These oblique deflections of the unwritten laws of good 
morals are not confined to any one section of our glorious 


GLADYS 


99 


country, but they are found east, west, north and south 
alike ; although it must be admitted that the shrewd Yan- 
kee often overreaches his more pompous southern brother 
by exchanging his wooden nutmegs for the latter’s silver 
dime, thereby increasing in the transaction his own bank 
account and the self-opinionated southerner’s lofty con- 
tempt for everything that claims a place of birth “down 
east.” 

Doctor Greydone, Daphne, Gladys and Aunt Alice were 
there at the picnic. Gladys, though pale and sad from 
grief over her mother’s death, was, under the kind sym- 
pathy of Daphne, the superior skill of the Doctor and the 
coddling helpfulness of Aunt Alice, rapidly gathering 
strength in her limbs and life in her little body. She 
really seemed to enjoy the great, odd, rollicking, good- 
natured crowd. The open-handed, cheerful sympathy of 
the many acquaintances she met put a. deeper glow on her 
cheeks and a brighter sparkle in her eyes than were wont 
to show there in the many, many long days of grief and 
privation through which she had passed since her father’s 
disappearance. 

When full justice had been done to the hamper-baskets, 
and their contents had been wonderfully reduced in pro- 
portion to the wonderfully reduced appetites of the picnic- 
ers, little groups and parties of congenial spirits were 
gathered here and there, as the great trees offered pro- 
tecting shade from the bright sunshine. One of these 
groups had selected a large flat-topped stone, whose upper 
surface was elevated a foot or so above that of the soil. 
On this stone, which was near to the beautiful spring of 
clear, cold water, our party from Linwood Rest was seated, 


100 


GLADYS 


waiting for the ‘ ‘ big gun ’ ’ of the day to extol the founders 
of the republic and prove, beyond a doubt, that this day 
was the Fourth of July and this people the greatest people 
on earth. 

Doctor Greydone had stepped to the spring for a cup 
of water for Daphne and Gladys, when he was accosted by 
a stranger with the question: 

“Is this Doctor Greydone?” 

“Yes, sir,” thinking the man wished to consult him pro- 
fessionally. 

“Is that little girl sitting on the rock Carrol Gordon’s 
daughter ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Did John Gates give her five hundred dollars before 
he died?” 

“Yes. But what is that to you? What is your name?” 

The last question was asked in a little louder tone of 
voice. 

“It is immaterial,” said the stranger, as he turned, and 
was in a moment lost in the crowd that was now surging 
towards the speaker’s stand, where the band was playing, 
preliminary to the oration. 

Greydone returned to the rock with the cup of water. 
Just then an acquaintance spoke to him and asked who the 
stranger was. 

“Just what I would like to know,” said the Doctor. 

“Did he not give you his name?” asked the friend. 

“I asked him, and he replied, ‘It is immaterial.’ ” 

“Just his reply to me. He asked me to point you out, 
Doctor, and at that instant I saw you approaching the 
spring for the cup of water, and so informed him. He 


GLADYS 


101 


thanked me. I asked him his name. He replied, ‘It is 
immaterial,’ and turned to look at you. He is a strange 
creature, I judge.” 

“ Well ! well ! ’ ’ mused Doctor Greydone. “ It is strange. 
Gates said the same reply was made to him the night he 
received the money. He must be the same man, and if he 
is he knows where Gladys’ father is. Well! well!” he 
repeated. “He has not a bad face, yet peculiar. I should 
not like to unjustly anger him.” 

Here Aunt Alice plucked the Doctor’s sleeve and whis- 
pered : 

“Don’ say anything mo’ to draw ’tention to ’im. I 
know ’im an’ I’ll tole yo’ bymby.” 

The Doctor was silent as an oyster in an instant, and all 
walked to the stand and took seats. 

Three o’clock told on the dial of time, and our friends 
prepared to return home. When they were about four 
miles beyond the Doctor’s residence they saw at some dis- 
tance in front of them a horseman slowly riding along the 
road, headed in the direction they were going. On com- 
ing up with him, Greydone was rather startled to recog- 
nize his amicus curio of the picnic grounds. The man 
reined his horse to the outside of the road, and when the 
Doctor ’s carriage was opposite he lifted his finger in token 
of a desire to speak to the occupants. At a word from 
Greydone the driver brought his horses to a standstill, and 
the man’s pleasure was awaited in silence. 

“Will you permit me to ride a short distance with you?” 
asked the stranger. 

“It is a peculiar request, seeing we are full. What do 
you wish my company for?” 


102 


GLADYS 


“It is immaterial, unless you consent,’ ’ said the man. 

Greydone thought, “That same phrase,” then said: 

“If you have a communication to make which concerns 
either myself or my friends here, you can ride.” 

The horseman dropped from his saddle with the agility 
of an acrobat and said: 

“Let your driver ride my horse, and you take the reins 
in front. He is perfectly gentle and safe,” to the driver, 
who was hesitating. 4 4 Would you mind to ride with her ? ’ ’ 
addressing Gladys and motioning towards Aunt Alice, 
who had her own buggy. “The other one,” looking at 
Daphne, “can keep her seat. She is old enough to be 
sensible. ’ ’ 

When they were again on their way the stranger said : 

“I want to tell you a secret which must be kept for 
awhile. The little girl’s father is my second cousin. I 
knew Aunt Alice in Kentucky when I was a boy. I be- 
lieve she knows me now. I saw her eye at the picnic, and 
am sure she does. I never was married and have no heirs. 
I have some money and some land — enough to keep the 
girl comfortably all her life. My way of living renders 
my life uncertain. I have my business all so arranged 
that the little girl will get what I leave. If she would 
like to see her father, or have him come back, I can get 
him word. He is not a bad man at heart. He acted fool- 
ishly and was to blame. We all do so at times. You can 
ask her if she wants to see him. ’ ’ 

Greydone stopped the team, and, turning to Daphne, 
said: 

“ Will you please go to Glayds and ask her if she wishes 
to see her father?” 


GLADYS 


103 


Daphne was out of the carriage and by the girl’s side 
in an instant. Immediately all ears heard her piteous cry : 

“0! tell him to come! Poor, poor papa! He was de- 
ceived, and will believe his little Gladys when she tells 
him so.” 

The stranger said, as he sprang from the carriage : 

“That is my answer!” 

“Will you not go home with us and rest for the night?” 
asked Daphne. 

“Thank you. Haven’t time,” was the laconic answer. 

“Will you not at least give us your name?” queried 
Greydone. “We may wish to thank you for your interest 
in Gladys by a suitable return.” 

“It is immaterial,” said the stranger, as he leaped into 
the saddle which the driver had vacated. And without a 
word further his horse carried him back at a brisk gallop 
in the direction of the picnic grounds. 

“Strange man!” again muttered the Doctor. “And 
that everlasting phrase, ‘It is immaterial.’ I wonder 
where he got it. Is he a variation of Poe’s raven? At 
least, his message does not bear the impress of evil. We 
shall know more by waiting.” 

Gladys took her former seat in the carriage, and the 
journey was resumed. 

The conversation was scant enough, as they drove at a 
more rapid gait, and by eight o’clock p. m. Linwood Rest 
invitingly, by its light in the window, suggested comfort 
and rest to man and beast. 

“Heah! Wattie, honey! Put up de pony, an’ min’ don’ 
you’ give him too much co’n, fo’ he’s hot an’ tuckered out, 
and yo’ mout foun’er him,” commanded Aunt Alice. 


104 


GLAD VS 


“ ’Zif I don’ know how to feed a leetle hoss lak dat! 
Guess dat ol’ ’oman o’ mine ’gwine to lose what leetle 
sense she bo ’n wid. Humph ! ’ ’ And he rapidly unhar- 
nessed the “leetle hoss” preparatory to grooming and 
feeding him. 

Although the night was pleasant, Doctor Greydone con- 
cluded he would defer his return home till morning, as 
the Fourth of July always taxes one ’s strength and spirits, 
and he felt exhausted and in need of repose. His horses 
were therefore carefully groomed, fed and bedded by his 
faithful driver, and when supper was over he retired to 
his room, where he remained awake for an hour or two 
thinking over the perplexing personality of his “imma- 
terial” friend and his peculiar behavior. 

Finally, sleep closed his eyelids, under that hospitable 
roof, and so held them until the sun had kissed with burn- 
ing lips the dewy birth of another day. 

At breakfast, the stranger, as a matter of course, was 
the subject of conversation; and many were the solutions 
offered for his odd methods of doing business. Wonder- 
ment was also busy guessing where and when he had seen 
Carrol Gordon, and where and when he would see him 
again. 

“What do you know of him, Aunt Alice?” asked Daph- 
ne. “He said he was sure you knew him, for he had seen 
you in Kentucky when he was a boy. ’ ’ 

“I hope lay his mama out ’way dar when de po’ creeter 
died,” said she in answer. “She was a good ’oman, an’ 
she died kase his pap was killed in a storm. He kind 
o’ growed up, an’ warn’t raised at all ; but I nebber knowd 
nothin’ bad ’bout him. He lef’ dat ken try, an’ we hearn 


GLADYS 


105 


o him way down in Missip. Den snmbody who’d bin 
down the ribber on a flat-boat tol’ us dat he was gone ’way 
out ’mong de Injins, an’ we all thought maybe as how ’t 
he’d been skulped by ’em.” 

“He said,” remarked Greydone, “that Gladys’ father 
was his second cousin.” 

“Well! ’Pore de Lawd!” ejaculated Aunt Alice. “I 
now ’member dat Miss Gordon done tol’ me wunst dat 
her man cum from Kaintucky. An’ mo’n dat, she tol’ me 
her man had a cousin dat she’d seen wunst, but dat he’d 
gone ’way out in de territories. An’ I warrants dat is de 
bery man.” 

“That is unraveling the skein a little,” said the Doctor. 
“I wish we knew more of him. But we must wait.” 

“De Lawd ’ll tell us ef he wants us to know,” said the 
old nurse. 

“I judge you are right, Auntie. My carriage is ready, 
and I must be off. Daphne, dear, please walk to the gate 
with me, ’ ’ he said, addressing the young lady. She smiled 
assent, and they stepped out. 

‘ ‘ I ’clare to grashus ! Ef he didn ’t call her ‘ dear, ’ an ’ 
she tuck it like a little sheep! Dat spells somethin’ mo’. 
Min’ I tol’ yo’, I spell dat word out yit, an’ when I does 
it’ll be ’nounced Love!” And the old woman seemed sat- 
isfied with her progress in the heart’s orthography. 

“Darling!” said Doctor Greydone, as they walked to 
the carriage, “watch over Gladys. Do not let her out of 
your sight until we can get her in school. The strange 
man may be all right, but we do not know it yet. Caution 
will ihjure no one.” 


106 


GLADYS 


“I do not think he means harm, or he would not have 
left the money for her mother,” said Daphne. 

“Men sometimes sacrifice more than that for an ad- 
vantage, real or fancied. But let us hope you are right. 
I will see you again soon. Good-bye, and may God guard 
and watch over you. ’ ’ 

“I know he will,” said she. And she added, archly, 
‘ ‘ Take care of my sweetheart. ’ ’ 

He saw the deep, fond look of love and trust in her tell- 
tale eyes, and as he smiled an acknowledgment of her re- 
quest, again his heart did extra work, as if intent on dis- 
charging a loving duty. 

The good-byes were again said, and this time they were 
sealed by the warm pressure of true hands, which prophe- 
sied of a short and hopeful parting. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Periander is said to have vowed a golden statue to Jupiter 
if he won the Olympic chariot-race. 

— Rawlinson. Herodotus. 

I bet my money on the bob-tail hoss;* 

Somebody bet on the gray. 

—Old Ditty. 

This is a gambling world. Men, and women too, wager 
on the turn of a die, the run of a card, the fleetness of a 
horse, the muscle and skill of an athlete, or the courage 
and combative abilities of the cock and the bull-dog. This 
disposition to acquire money, without an agreed equiv- 
alent, by superior skill or what is called the luck of chance, 
is largely the result of a cultivated shrewdness coupled 
with a covetous longing for wealth and the almost total 
blunting of a conscience which holds tightly the reins of 
self-restraint on desires which impel the child to reap 
where he has not sown. This coloring of the moral nature 
of the American people has become so deeply ingrained 
that it gives a tint to all sides of every view we may be 
able to obtain of American character. It is true that the 
Jew has been characterized and caricatured as the acquis- 
itive individual animal of the genus homo. 


108 


GLADYS 


But while, as the ages rolled along, the Jew has ever 
been compelled, in self defense, to play Shylock in the 
world’s drama with his more pharisaical neighbor, he has 
always incorporated in his mercantile and other accumu- 
lative transactions that devotional element which fer- 
vently thanked the God of Abraham for the clinking 
shekels as they fell into his greedy coffer. Hence, while 
the Latin, the Slav and the Saxon have gotten gain with- 
out gratitude to God, Israel’s harp has sung songs of 
thankfulness in tune with the chimes rung by the golden 
coins as they dropped into his vaults within hearing of 
the reverenced Ark of the Covenant, where his religious 
fancy saw the approving light of the Shekinah. True 
religion always elevates commercial methods. Yet it does 
not always eliminate all taint of human greed. The com- 
munism of the first Christians will never again be practi- 
cal until the latter trio of the Creator’s attributes, as ex- 
pressed in the Syrio-Chaldaic Cognomen of the All Wise, 
Abba, shall rule mankind to a higher life. Then these 
attributes — love, condescension and mercy — will, when 
Shilo comes, wipe out from earth, forever, the tears which 
fall from hungry, human eyes; and joy and gladness will 
then make all things mundane reel with love and laughter ; 
and the widow will no more, with sighs from a breaking 
heart, “lay on her last chip of wood,” and sadly experi- 
ence that ‘ 4 ’tis a most bitter lot to be poor when it snows. ’ ’ 
This gambling spirit of which we are speaking gilds 
every transaction of money getting, from the game of 
craps or marbles to the elephantine investment of specu- 
lators in stocks, railroad bonds, grain futures and realty 
purchases. The hostess who offers a gemmed hair-pin at 


GLADYS 


109 


her german, or a silver butter-knife at her card tables, as 
a premium, is no less surely leading her young guests to 
the gambler’s goal than if she laid down a gold coin and 
said, “Now win this by superior dancing or superior skill 
at cards, and it is yours.” And eternity alone can reveal 
how much the leaders in social life, as it now exists, are 
responsible for the sharpened edge of the assassin’s knife 
or the bitter compound of the suicide’s potion. It is said 
in extenuation of these social customs that parents are 
compelled to furnish these amusements at home for the 
young or they will seek them elsewhere. This is a sad 
mistake, and comes from a misconception of proper meth- 
ods of training and educating the young in morals. The 
same logic would dictate social theft, social cheating, and 
even social lewdness, to keep the boys and girls at home, 
lest they* seek all these in more disreputable places. 

These are hard and harsh words to write, but honest 
conviction demands them. It is wrong and sinful to covet 
that which is not yours. It is the same to obtain by su- 
perior skill or chance that which you have not earned if 
it was previously the property of another. Every act, 
thought or word which leads to these leads to sin. That 
which leads to sin leads to death. And the leader treads 
the broad road in advance of the led. The parents who 
teach their children the pure and higher laws of a holy 
and conscientious life, not in austerity and long-faced 
hypocrisy, but in the outbursting joy and gladness of 
youthful feeling, tempered with an unfaltering soultrust 
in the guiding hand of a crucified Savior, will never be 
called on to weep the bitter tears of shame and humiliation 
over the degraded end of an erring son or daughter. 


110 


GLADYS 


The country contiguous to the line dividing the Indian 
Territory from Arkansas and Missouri has from pioneer 
days been the fruitful field wherein grew the rank pois- 
onous weeds of money-getting by wager on cards and fast 
horses. These products of a covetous soil never equaled 
the larger proportions of the Kentucky race-track, or of 
the gambling tables in the saloons of Mississippi River 
steamers in antebellum days. But inasmuch as the stream 
takes its rise in the uncultivated forests and flows by con- 
stant trend to the larger bodies of water, the lakes and 
oceans, so it is of vice and virtue. The little game of 
craps, the improvised card table with grains of corn for 
poker chips, the trial of speed between plug ponies and 
farm horses for- a bottle of whisky or a pound of tobacco, 
are the first bubblings of the springs of sin ere they take 
their course to the stagnating sloughs of the overcrowded, 
immoral concentrations of humanity. 

About a week subsequent to the incident related in the 
last chapter, there was camped near Tahlequah, in the 
Cherokee Nation, a party of men numbering a dozen or 
more, who were returning from Texas after having spent 
a year in that state looking at the country with a view of 
buying land and locating there. These men were mostly 
farmers who had spent their lives in Illinois, where by 
economy and industry they had become well to do and 
good livers. When their horses were unharnessed and fed 
and their own suppers partaken of, as was their custom, 
pipes were lighted and two or three quartettes were formed 
around improvised tables for their nightly game at cards. 
Several of these men when at home were regular attend- 
ants at church, and were considered highly respectable 


GLADYS 


111 


citizens — and so they were, as the world goes. It is hard 
to tell why it is so, but so it is, that human beings will, 
when absent from home and its environments, engage in 
practices which they would severely condemn in their own 
neighborhoods. With laughter, witty remarks, quick re- 
partee and an occasional sip from the inevitable bottle, 
the hours ran rapidly by, and it was near their bed time, 
for they purposed a long drive on the morrow. Suddenly 
pistol shots in rapid succession rang out on the still clear 
air, and the clatter of horses’ hoofs told that two or more 
horsemen were fast approaching the camp. Each camper 
grasped his firearm firmly and stood expectant, awaiting 
developments. The cause of the alarm proved to be two 
horsemen, who halted within a few yards of the camp- 
fire and asked if the party had seen a man carrying a girl 
before him, pass in the last few minutes. 

“We have not,” said one of the men. 

The reply had scarcely been given, when a faint scream 
was heard, seemingly about two hundred paces from where 
they were standing. 

“There he is! Come on!” said the elder of the two. 
And whirling his horse he was off like a shot. 

“Can we be of service?” asked the spokesman of the 
tourists. 

“Perhaps you can,” replied the remaining man, and he 
turned and followed his comrade at a rapid run. 

“Men!” said the gentleman who had talked with the 
pursuers, “here is a chance for an adventure. We are in 
no particular hurry to get home. Saddle your horses, three 
or four of you, and let us see the end of this thing.” 


112 


GLADYS 


Five of the younger men sprang to their horses, which 
were tethered nearby, and in less time than we consume in 
narrating it they were in their saddles and off on the wild 
chase. All but their leader being young and active, these 
brave fellows shot at breakneck speed along the trail the 
two pursuers had taken. They had each brought an extra 
blooded saddle-horse with them for the purpose of riding 
over the country and occasionally enjoying a hunt. Each 
also had revolvers and a Winchester repeating rifle. 

“Keep together, boys,” said the leader, “till we over- 
take the two men, then we can decide on the part we will 
play in the game.” 

When the horsemen were out of earshot of the men left 
at the camp, these last, knowing they could not sleep, 
began discussing the affair which had so broken in on their 
quiet camp life. Various opinions were advanced as to 
the merits of the case; and as usual under such circum- 
stances, no satisfactory conclusions were reached. Tiring 
of guessing at the unguessable, one of the men said : 

“Say, Bill! Let’s have another game. I am out too 
mucli money to feel good over it.” 

“Better wait till you strike that Spaniard who did you 
up at the Arkansas River camp,” replied the person ad- 
dressed. 

“0! I’ll never see him again. That scoundrel could 
outcheat any man who ever handled the thumbpapers in 
my presence.” 

“Boys,” said a third speaker of the party, “I have been 
thinking considerably over our card-playing lately, and it 
don’t ease my conscience a bit. We haven’t been doing 
the right thing on this trip.” 


GLADYS 


113 


“Why! You are the last man to complain,” said the 
first speaker. “You are a hundred dollars or more ahead. 
What are you kicking about?” 

“I know,” replied the man addressed. “But that is 
just what hurts me. I got that money fair and square, as 
gambling goes ; and some fifty dollars of it came out of the 
Spaniard’s purse. But is it really honest to get money 
that way ? My mother always taught me that it was not ; 
and I never knew her to be very far out of the way on 
questions of right and honesty.” 

After a few moments of thoughtful silence he continued : 

“I’ll tell you boys what I’m going to do. The rest of 
you can do as you please. I will never play another game 
of cards. I’ll never bet another cent on anything. Bill, 
there is fifty dollars I won from the Spaniard. He won a 
hundred from you, so by rights this is your money. Here 
is twenty-five dollars I won from you. It is justly yours. 
Now you are out twenty-five dollars, which perhaps you 
deserve to lose for being as big a fool as I was. I am even, 
which I don’t deserve to be; but I have quit sin — this sin, 
at least — and have made restitution as far as I am able 
till I can get at the boys I have won from. I am going to 
bed. Good-night, all.” And he suited the action to the 
word and rolled himself in a blanket on his cot. 

“ Well !” said the one addressed as Bill. “This is some- 
thing that wasn’t in the show-bills, as the circus men say. 
Boys, find out if I have won anything from you and let me 
know; I can’t remember. But I’m going to follow suit. 
How persistently habits of thought and action rise to the 
front, as shown in this gambling phrase, ‘Follow suit.’ 
Here ’s to bed and to sleep and a better life. And may 


GLAD VS 


114 

mother’s sainted spirit watch over me.” And he, like the 
other, rolled on his cot for sleep. 

“I don’t know but what they are right,” mused another 
of the company. ‘ ‘ But what will the others say when they 
return?” 

“They will think we’ve had a revival in their absence 
and wonder who the preacher was,” replied another com- 
rade. 

“It don’t always take a preacher to let us know what’s 
right and wrong,” remarked an elderly gentleman of the 
tourist crowd. “A wish to do right and a little calm 
thinking is all one needs to keep himself straight.” 

“Henry Clay said that ‘he would rather be right than 
to be President.’ So, as there is no chance for me to be 
president, at least I see no prospect of it now, I’ll make a 
huge effort to be right in the future, so far as gambling is 
concerned. No more cards for me!” This was said by a 
young man who up till now had only been a listener. He 
also retired, leaving only the colored cook sitting by the 
fire. 

“Bress de Lawd, dars anoder soul saved,” remarked 
that individual. “Dis am as good a place to git ’eligion 
as a camp meetin’. Yah! Yah! Yah! Ef somebody ’d guv 
out a hyme I’d try fur to sung it, sho’! Umhum! Guess 
I’ll be gwine to bed too ; fur kase ef it strucks me, dis nig- 
ger’ll hab no mo’ fun shootin’ craps. Yah! Yah! Yah!” 

“Stop that braying, you jackass!” called Bill. 

The darky was sober in a moment. The toes of his dig- 
nity had been trod on roughly by Bill. He sat a moment, 
then went to his quarters soliloquizing: 


GLADYS 


115 


“De ‘stended ’ricular ’tachments ob dis culled pusson’s 
hea’in’ apperatusements am no mo’ ’stended dan yose 
am!” 

He was soon in bed, where ere long he forgot, in dreams 
of his Dinah, all distinctions of race, color or previous 
conditions of servitude. 

The jaded horses of the two pursuers permitted the 
fresh horsemen to rapidly gain on them, and it was but a 
run of a couple of miles until they were galloping all to- 
gether up the Verdigris River. The older of the two who 
were the principals in the pursuit halted his horse, and at 
the word, “Listen,” from him, all came to a standstill. 
Nothing could be heard, and the man said rapidly in an 
undertone : 

“ It is nearly midnight now, and the race we have given 
the scoundrel has so far exhausted his horse that he must 
rest. Keep a sharp watch, and if you hear the report of 
my pistol, come to me at once. I will ride slowly forward 
for a mile or so. As soon as it is light enough to see, two 
of you go back until you strike his trail, then follow it up. 
The others can act as scouts between them and me. The 
ground is soft from the recent shower, and his trail can be 
easily followed. Do not sleep, if you wish to aid a mother- 
less girl.” And he was gone. 

There was a moderate moonlight, as the clouds were 
somewhat thin, and it was easy to distinguish large objects 
at twenty or thirty paces. 

The time passed rapidly to the men, who refrained from 
conversation and used all the precautions possible to keep 
the horses quiet. As day began to dawn, three of the 
party prepared to return to search for the trail, while the 


116 


GLADYS 


other two kept watch. Just before sunrise, horses tracks 
were found in the softened ground leading out from the 
river along a bridle path. One of the men, after ascertain- 
ing the general direction of the fugitive’s course, returned 
to the watchers and reported. On consultation, it was 
decided that he should ride ahead and inform the man 
who had left in that direction of all that had been dis- 
covered. 

This courier was a young man of twenty-one years. In- 
deed, he was the youngest of the party, and had joined 
the landseekers more from a love of adventure than from 
any spirit of speculation. Being wealthy in his own right, 
from entailed estates descending from his maternal grand- 
father, and the son of a large land-owner and banker of 
Springfield, Illinois, he had no need for effort to increase 
his holdings. His fine figure, blue eyes and brown, curly 
hair bespoke a strong, true friend and a lover of the bright, 
beautiful things of this life. His education was all that 
could be desired for one of his age and station. Naturally 
sharp, shrewd, cautious and brave, he could and would 
play any part in life’s drama that required quick action, 
sound judgment and self-control. 

Having ridden something near a mile up the river in a 
northwesterly direction, he halted his horse, which was 
an animal of pure blood and great beauty, and stood lis- 
tening for any sound that might guide him to action. This 
attentive attitude had been maintained only a few minutes 
till he distinctly heard the click of horse’s feet coming 
towards him, coupled with the pleading tones of a girlish 
voice. He quietly reined his intelligent horse to the side 
of the road, where a clump of bushes would hide him from 


GLADYS 


117 


view until the persons, whoever they might be, should be 
within a few paces of him. He had barely time to assume 
this position, when the whilom gambling Spaniard of the 
Arkansas River episode rode up, leading another horse, 
on which was tied by means of a lariat a beautiful girl of 
some fifteen summers. The young man (whose name was 
Charles Pemberton) had taken the precaution to bring his 
pistol to a proper position, and now said, with a smile : 

“ Hello, friend! Would it not be well for the young 
lady if you would take that rope from about her?” 

The Spaniard made a move as if to dismount, but was 
stopped with the order, “Hold on there,” at the same mo- 
ment that Pemberton ’s pistol was leveled at his head. 

“What do you want?” asked the man in fair English. 

“Hold up your hands!” said the captor. 

He was obeyed instantly. 

“Now,” continued the young man, “if you make a move 
that looks suspicious I will blow your brains out, just for 
the fun of it. I am going to fire a pistol in the air to see 
if it will frighten my horse. But don’t you move, my 
friend, or I will have to hurt you.” 

He closed this injunction with a smile as seemingly in- 
nocent as a babe ’s, and at the same time dropped the rein 
of the bridle on the pommel of the saddle and, with his 
left hand, drew another pistol from its sheath and delib- 
erately fired it in the air, all the while keeping his eye 
and right-hand weapon on the thoroughly frightened Cas- 
tilian. Two or three minutes was this interesting tableau 
maintained, when it was broken in upon by the rush, at 
mad gallop, of one horseman from the north and three 


118 


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from the south, each carrying the inevitable Colt’s re- 
volver at a present. 

“Heaven be praised!” shouted the foremost of the 
three, who was none other than Doctor Greydone, who had 
for two days and nights been in pursuit of this villian, 
who for some, to him unknown, purpose had attempted 
the abduction of our little friend, Gladys Gordon ; for she 
it was who sat there, tied and bound onto the Spaniard’s 
led horse, laughing and crying all in the same breath. 

The instant the men were in position to prevent the mis- 
creant ’s escape, young Pemberton leapt from his horse, 
and with his keen hunting knife severed the cruel raw- 
hide rope, and lifted the girl with his strong arms to the 
ground. She could with difficulty stand on her feet on 
account of the great exhaustion and the constrained po- 
sition she had been forced to occupy so long. Pemberton 
made a comfortable seat by spreading his oversaddle blan- 
ket on a log nearby, and led her to it. 

One of the camping party rode around in front of the 
Spaniard, and as soon as he caught a good view of the fel- 
low ’s face, he exclaimed : 

“Here’s a go ! If that isn’t the scamp that won Bill’s 
cash at the river camp, then I’m the biggest liar in Elee- 
noy!” 

“You are not in Illinois now. Say Indian Territory,” 
suggested one of his comrades. 

“I don’t know all the liars in this country,” retorted 
the man. 

“All countries are alike in that respect,” said another 
of the party. “Brut let the fellow take his hands down ; he 
looks tired.” 


GLADYS 


119 


“Let me get his firearms first/’ said Pemberton. 

As he was taking possession of the pistols, another 
horseman rode up briskly. On surveying the company a 
moment he said: 

“Well, gentlemen! You have knocked me out of a 
handsome reward. I am United States Marshal and have 
a writ for this fellow for robbery committed yesterday.” 

‘ ‘ Whom did he rob, and what did he get ? ’ ’ asked Grey- 
done. 

“He dismounted a woman and took her horse and sad- 
dle for this girl to ride,” answered the Marshal. “I will 
also have to arrest her as particeps criminis.” 

“You are welcome to the reward,” said Doctor Grey- 
done. “ But the girl is innocent. The Spaniard was ab- 
ducting her and had her securely tied on the horse with 
this,” pointing to the pieces of rope. 

‘ 4 The young lady can have all the bond necessary, ’ ’ said 
Pemberton. 

‘ ‘ Thank you, my friend, ’ ’ said Greydone, addressing the 
last speaker. “But she has plenty of friends who are able 
and willing to meet all exigencies in her behalf. Still, we 
do not wish to appear ungrateful for your great kindness. 
We are all deeply indebted to you and your friends for 
the priceless service you have rendered her.” 

“But you will do me the favor to allow me to aid you 
in seeing her safe among those friends, will you not?” 
And he turned his pleading eyes to Gladys, who met his 
wistful look with a blush as a setting for the jewel of a 
sweet smile. 

Reader, the Prophet Isaiah asks the question, “Shall a 
nation be born at once?” and history informs us that long 


120 


GLAD VS 


years of decadence precede the demise of great common- 
wealths. But here, in that boyish glance and girlish blush 
was the miracle of the death of the boy and the girl and 
the birth of a man and a woman, whose mutual love 
seemed to quiver and tremble in ecstacy as the universe 
suddenly became enswathed in a halo of glory, while the 
births were baptized in a deluge of pure, sweet, maidenly 
tears. The Psalmist says, “We are fearfully and wonder- 
fully made,” and we reverently ask: Could. an angel’s 
pencil paint the fearful, trustful, all-absorbing wonder- 
ment of young love’s first rainbow-hued dream? 

Greydone’s habits of sharp observation enabled him to 
catch this transaction in the barter of souls and hearts, 
and he said kindly: 

“Why, certainly, sir. There can be no possible objec- 
tion to your company, as you have shown yourself every 
way worthy of trust. Besides, we shall be pleased to have 
you at our homes, where we may in a measure show our 
appreciation of your services to this young lady.” 

“Do not mention them,” replied the young man. “I 
have plenty of time on my hands until the middle of Sep- 
tember; and I would be well repaid to see more of your 
country and become acquainted with your people.” 

During the time of this conversation the Marshal had 
secured his prisoner, and preparations were made for a 
return to camp. Greydone’s comrade had maintained a 
profound silence while all this preparation and talk was 
in progress. Finally, when all was ready and satisfactory 
arrangements had been consummated for Gladys to ride the 
stolen horse and saddle to camp, the leader of the camp 
party which had joined the two pursuers of the Spaniard 


GLADYS 


121 


the night before rode up to this man, offered his hand and 
said : 

‘ ‘ Of course you will ride to camp with us and eat some 
breakfast. We are very well fixed to entertain you, as 
outers, and you are more than welcome.” 

“Thank you,” said the strange man, taking the prof- 
fered hand. “I am needed elsewhere, and there are 
enough of you to see after the girl.” 

“May I be so bold as to ask your name? We may meet 
again, and we should be pleased for a better acquaintance. 
Men’s paths oddly cross each other in this world some- 
times, as this affair has proven.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, the reticent man replied: 

“It is immaterial. Good-day to all!” and he rode off, 
going westward. 

All were introduced to Gladys by Doctor Greydone, who 
had informed himself of their names, and the start was 
made for the camp. The marshal secured his prisoner by 
binding him with thongs obtained from the lariat by un- 
plaiting one of the pieces. Charles Pemberton rode by 
the side of the girl he had so successfully released, and 
this post of honor was cheerfully accorded him by unani- 
mous, though silent, consent. 

“It is very strange,” said he to Gladys, “how people 
are thrown together as they journey along life’s unknown 
road. I sometimes think, with the devout Moslem, that 
fate deals the hand and compels the play. What is your 
opinion, Miss Gordon?” 

Gladys was silent for a short time, and in that time de- 
cided to be true to herself and her convictions, even at the 
risk of losing the esteem of her new-found friend. She 


122 


GLADYS 


finally slowly replied in her sweet, girlish tones as follows : 

“I am too inexperienced to he trusted on such ques- 
tions, but I prefer the faith of my mother in God’s provi- 
dence to any reliance on fate in the affairs of this world. 
And will you pardon my childish abhorrence of gambling 
terms applied to what I reverence as the guiding of a lov- 
ing Father’s hand?” 

The question was asked sweetly, and so trustfully, and 
opened up such a beautiful view of the young girl ’s heart, 
that he hastened to ask pardon for the thoughtless simile. 

“I know we acquire these uncouth modes of expression 
as much through carelessness as any other way,” said he. 
“But your pure faith has taught me the value of pure 
language, and to have this our thoughts must be pure. 
Let me assure you that both the lesson and the teacher 
are prized very highly.” 

This last was said with one of those rare, winning smiles 
which bespeak a true heart. 

‘ ‘ 0 ! I cannot think of myself as a teacher. I only speak 
as I feel, and my greatest effort is to feel right.” And 
her great brown eyes showed glimpses of soul depths she 
herself never dreamed of. 

And so, with pleasant interchange of thought between 
these two, the ride to camp was completed. 

The conversation between Doctor Greydone and the 
leader of the camp-men was of an entirely different, but 
fully as interesting, character as that just recorded. 
Greydone considered it due his comrade that he should 
be informed, so far he knew himself, of the incidents of 
the attempted abduction of Gladys Gordon. He told the 
man, as they rode leisurely along side by side, that his 


GLADYS 


123 


strange friend who had just left them had galloped up to 
his gate the day before at about nine o’clock a. m., and 
informed him that the Spaniard had captured Gladys and 
was making his way rapidly as possible towards Tahlequah 
with her. He had caught sight of them once, and the girl, 
who was of slight form and light weight, was held firmly 
in front of the man, who was riding a powerful, swift- 
footed horse. He lost the trail, though, by a miscalcula- 
tion of the course he should have taken, but was sure of 
the general direction. Miss Daphne Raymond, with whom 
Gladys was making her home since her mother’s death, 
had permitted the latter to go for some ripe peaches to a 
small orchard a few hundred yards away. This orchard 
was known as the Hill-side, and contained some rare and 
excellent fruit. This was on the evening previous to the 
day our camping friends pitched tent, as related above. 
The strange friend was passing Linwood Rest about sun- 
set, and encountered Miss Daphne and her household as 
they were out searching for the supposed tardy one. He 
joined the search with fear and forebodings of evil, for he 
had met the abductor at noon, and from the sinister ex- 
pression of his countenance and a faint recognition of the 
man’s features, was sure he was responsible for the girl’s 
absence. Yet he was not aware of any motive which could 
prompt the deed. Greydone dispatched a courier to as- 
sure Daphne that no efforts would be spared to find the 
missing girl. 

Hastily saddling his best and swiftest horse, one of the 
noted Leviathans, they set out for the point where the girl 
and man had been seen as stated. The trail was easily 
followed, and once or twice during the day they heard of 


124 


GLADYS 


them as still being headed in the same direction. Crossing 
the Illinois River and leaving Fort Gibson to the left hand, 
at six o’clock p. m. the pursuers were within a few miles 
of the fugitives. Knowing the Spaniard’s beast could not 
long stand the strain of his double load, and believing that 
rest and food would be a necessity for all, they called at 
the house of a Cherokee Indian for refreshments. Grey- 
done’s companion seemed to be well acquainted with the 
Indian, and entered into conversation with him in the 
red man’s tongue. Giving their horses an hour to feed 
and rest, they remounted, and then Greydone was in- 
formed that the Indian had seen the man and girl about 
an hour previous at a house only a short distance ahead. 
The two men pushed on, and just at sunset caught sight 
of the objects of their search as they were passing over the 
spur of a hill some mile and a quarter away. Quickening 
their speed the pursuers were soon near enough to hear 
his horse’s feet, it being a heavy animal. Soon these 
sounds were silent, and our friends could distinguish the 
expostulating tones of the Indian tongue, alternating with 
the angry replies of a man speaking English. Fastening 
their horses to a tree, they endeavored by stealth to gain a 
nearer position. But when the supposed location of the 
altercation was reached the bird had flown. Remounting 
quickly on reaching their horses, they, at a hazard, rode 
slowly on until within a half mile of the camp aforesaid, 
when they came almost upon the fugitives. The Spaniard 
fired several shots at his pursuers, who, being fearful of 
injuring Gladys, halted, and endeavored only to keep in 
hearing of the clinking iron shoes of the fleeing horses, for 
now there were two animals instead of one. The conclu- 


GLADYS 


125 


sion was quickly reached that at the place where the 
former halt was made the Spaniard had robbed an Indian 
woman of her horse, and this theory accounted for the al- 
tercation and the second steed. In the effort to keep track 
by the ear, the two gentlemen had run into the camp, and 
here we are already posted on the successful adventure 
of the captors. 

Camp was reached at eleven o’clock a. m., and the cook 
had his hands full preparing breakfast for his hungry 
guests and employers. 

Gladys, being quite exhausted from her fearful ride and 
long fast, retired for a little sleep, after which she partook 
heartily of the well cooked and appetizing meal. 

The marshal, after again securing his prisoner, this time 
by tying his feet together underneath the horse with the 
lariat thongs, took his departure for Fort Smith, where in 
due time, according to the law and the evidence, Judge 
Phillips, of the Federal Court, sentenced the outlaw to 
ten years in the Arkansas State Penitentiary. Charge — 
robbery in the Indian Territory. There was left, still, 
though, an indictment in the State Circuit Court, charging 
adbuction, for further adjudication. 

Dr. Greydone purchased from one of the tourists a fine 
saddle animal for Gladys. She rode the stolen saddle to 
Tahlequah, where another was purchased, and the horse 
and saddle which had been taken from the Indian woman 
was left at that place for the owner. 

Our friends now set out for their homes accompanied by 
young Pemberton, who had persuaded himself that the 
State was in need of one more citizen to complement its 
next census, and none could meet the demand so well as he. 


125 


GLADYS 


All safely arrived at Linwood late that night, where the 
sad hearts of that peaceful place were made glad indeed 
by the sight of their little lost friend and her determined 
guardian. On hearing of the part taken in the rescue by 
Charles Pemberton, that individual became a hero in the 
eyes of the good country folk, and Uncle Watt said to 
Aunt Alice: 

“Guess dat de Lawd dun let some good white pussons 
grow up ’way up yander in de nor’.” 

Aunt Alice, whose sharp eyes missed nothing of sur- 
rounding circumstances, remarked in reply: 

“Spect dat youngster dun struck dead by dem big, 
brown eyes what am stuck in Miss Gladys’ head. Well, da 
am killin’ ones, sho’s yo’ bawn. We’ll see.” And she 
went on with her work. 


CHAPTER X. 


The love of money is the root of all evil. 

— I Timothy, 6-10. 

That old Roman blood which gave the iron will and 
physical constitution to the legions of the Caesars and 
which, by these, enabled the Seven Hilled city to grasp in 
her firm hand the guiding reins of Europe, Asia and Af- 
rica, has become so thinned that the Latin race now is 
only a pale apology for the stalwart ruddiness of the olden 
time. The individual descendant of this once mighty, war- 
like people suggests in his character the pathological 
phrase, nervous prostration, so often applied by physicians 
to certain conditions of convalescents from continued and 
exhausting fevers. He has the quick, brittle strength of 
an irritable nervousness, which can only persist under 
opposition as a whimsical concentrativeness, largely simi- 
lating the mental methods of the paranoiac ; and is psychi- 
cally incompetent to adjust himself to the broader lines of 
Saxon civilization which are leading humanity to a higher 
and a better life. 

The love of money has characterized the Spaniard for 
many centuries, and has even been the dominating inte- 
gral element in his religious congregatio de propoganda 


128 


GLADYS 


fide wherever his man-of-war flag has waved over a sub- 
jugated port or his armies have poured out the blood of 
the conquered peoples in the name of religion. Our own 
Prescott, in his Conquests of Mexico and Peru, has left 
a dark blot on his own brilliant name by apologizing, in ef- 
fect, for the cruelty practiced in the death of Guatimozin 
and the Incas, the legitimate child of which cruelty still 
breathes its accursed life in the bull fights gloated over 
by merciless mobs. 

The older Roman progenitor of his degenerate offspring 
would have blushed with shame had prophetic prescience 
favored him with a glimpse of the money-getting methods 
of his morally imbecile child. But Pertinox, “the tennis 
ball of Fortune,” dead from the blow of the Tungrian 
soldiers’ lance, has slept in the memory of Rome for nearly 
two thousand years, and still sleeps on, and, as General 
Grant said, with seer-like accuracy, “The Latin races are 
doomed.” This old world, whose past ages have echoed 
to the 


“Rounded gasp and gurgling breath” 

of murdered millions, may lift up her eyes in tearful joy 
that the inquisitorial spirit is about to pass, with Latin 
influence and methods, to a stern judgment before Christ- 
ian Saxondom. 

In order that the patient reader may be able to account 
satisfactorily for the incidents, and understand the motives 
which prompted them, as related in the last chapter, we 
must push back the car of time at least a month and a 
half, and ask his or her company to the City of Santa Fe, 


GLADYS 


129 


where we have already some notes of some things which 
bear on onr story. 

Carrol Gordon, in arranging his business in July, so that 
in the event his life should not be spared to see his daugh- 
ter again, whatever of beneficiary post mortum emolu- 
ments might be her heritage, there should be no legal er- 
rors to cure, necessarily had to visit his merchant friend in 
the above city several times. On these visits he was al- 
ways accompanied by an intimate friend, who was no other 
than Doctor Greydone’s “ immaterial’ ’ man and comrade 
in the pursuit of the Spaniard and Gladys. 

It will be remembered that this friend of Thorwald 
Greydone had brought the five hundred dollars and given 
it to John Gates, with instructions to deliver the cash to 
Mrs. Gordon. 

Gordon’s ability to pay cash for all purchases, and the 
further fact that he had at several different times ex- 
changed gold nuggets and dust for coin and paper moneys, 
had been noted by a man who seemed to be always present 
or near by when these transactions were under way. Gor- 
don soon noticed that this person often made it in the 
way to speak to and endeavor to engage him in conversa- 
tion. His suspicions were aroused, and convinced that the 
man contemplated some evil against him, he become more 
cautious still. Always after visiting Santa Fe he would, 
on returning to his mine, make a detour or employ other 
means of throwing the fellow at fault. Finally, on one 
occasion when Gordon needed some supplies, this fellow 
dogged him more persistently than ever, and, having fol- 
lowed him at a distance for half a day, Gordon concluded 


130 


GLADYS 


to return and go, as before related, to Albuquerque for a 
time. 

The fellow was but an hour or so behind his arrival at 
that town, and Gordon, meeting up with the above named 
acquaintance, who had befriended him on his first coming 
into the territory, asked if he knew the man. 

“Yes,” said the friend, “I know him. He is a Spaniard 
who has been run out of Mexico for robbing the mail. I 
met him in an eating house in Phoenix, Arizona, a year 
ago. He is a bad man, and he has some idea that you have 
money, for only a few days since he attempted to quiz me 
concerning your affairs. I will assist you in watching 
him, and if he beats me he may brag on himself some.” 

“Thank you,” said Gordon. “Let us get into a private 
place, and I have a favor to ask of you.” 

The two walked to Gordon’s sleeping room, which was 
isolated by a few feet from a livery stable, and entered, 
closing the door behind them. When everything was con- 
sidered safe from observation, Gordon drew from a belt 
the five hundred dollars, and, handing the money to his 
friend, said: 

“I understand you are going to Arkansas soon. I want 
you to carry this money and give it to my wife. I have 
long believed you to be my lost cousin. I so believe simply 
from your resemblance to my mother’s family. You need 
not admit it unless you so wish. Knowing you to be hon- 
est, and already having all the money you desire, I can 
trust you.” 

As the last words were spoken, both were slightly star- 
tled by the dropping of a loosened pane of glass from the 
window at the back end of the house. Stepping to the 


GLADYS 


131 


window, Gordon looked out, but could see nothing. Had 
he advanced his head into the square of the misplaced 
glass and looked down he would have seen the very man 
who had so long dogged his footsteps, crouching close down 
under the window from which he was looking. Satisfied 
that no one was near, he returned to his seat and resumed 
the conversation with his friend. 

“You know I have told you of my mine. It is paying 
me well now, and I have quite a sum of money and dust 
saved up. I have my will written and acknowledged, with 
you yourself and Mr. Craig as my legatees and executors 
in trust for my daughter Gladys, who is with her mother 
in Washington County, Arkansas, southwest of Fayette- 
ville. I have also devised to her mother a sufficiency for 
her comfort during her life.” 

Again they were interrupted by a faint noise at the 
window, and Gordon ran quickly to ascertain the cause. 
This time he caught sight of the Spaniard just at the in- 
stant of his turning the corner of the building. 

“That fellow has eaves-dropped us,” said he. “But let 
him go. I shall go immediately to Albuquerque and stay 
there until I can get a partner whom I can trust. Then we 
will work the mine until I get sufficient money, added to 
that which I already have, and then we will stake out and 
enter a mining claim, and the balance can go. When will 
you start east?” he asked, turning to his friend. 

‘ ‘ Tonight at moonrise, ’ ’ the latter replied. * ‘ It will take 
me a week to reach Arkansas. You may rest easy concern- 
ing your wife and daughter. I’ll get the money into their 
hands early as possible. You know my Arkansas saddle 
horse can get over long roads in short time. But let me 


132 


GLADYS 


advise you to keep an eye on that Spaniard. He ’ll do you 
dirt!” 

“I’ll watch him,” and the two friends shook hands, 
mounted their horses, each riding off his own way. As 
Gordon left town, he noticed the Spaniard eyeing him fur- 
tively from a store door, and so concluded to balk him 
again by turning east for a few miles. This ruse partially 
succeeded, but he was surprised to see his enemy ride into 
Albuquerque the fourth day after his own arrival there. 

Determined to outstay the fellow, he secured and paid 
for a month ’s board for himself and horse at a tavern, and 
proceeded to take things leisurely. The Spaniard lounged 
around town for a month, and by the merest accident saw 
at the end of this time Gordon and Corwin talking to- 
gether at that first meeting before described. He care- 
fully and shyly watched the two, and soon was satisfied 
that a trip was contemplated. Keeping out of sight of the 
friends, he suited his actions to theirs, and in a little while 
was at his old tactics of shadowing the man whose wealth 
he coveted and which he was determined to obtain by any 
means, however foul. But he lost the trail again, as told 
in a former chapter, and returned to Santa Fe. His stop- 
ping place when in town was with an old Indian squaw, 
whom he paid liberally for board. After waiting several 
days for another sight of Gordon, he became gloomy and 
irritable. He was aware that his prey had given him an- 
other slip, and one evening while sitting in the open air 
alone a few feet from his boarding hut smoking a cigar, 
he seemed as if struck all of a heap. He sprang to his feet, 
muttering to himself in Spanish: 


GLADYS 


133 


‘ 1 What a fool I am ! Why not follow that American to 
Arkansas, capture the girl, then make terms with her 
father ?” He thought for a moment, and with a devilish 
laugh added: “Or marry her, then kill the father? The 
wealth will be my own then, and I can keep the girl or kill 
her afterward, when I have the money, as I choose. I will 
do it!” 

He immediately entered the squaw’s hut, paid his bill, 
saddled his horse, and, mounting, rode eastward. His 
progress was uninterrupted by any accident or event of 
note until he arrived at Cane Hill. Here he warily made 
inquiries, and having located the residence of Gladys and 
ascertained that the mother was dead, he proceeded to lay 
his plans for the girl’s capture. He several times rode 
through the country in order to become familiar with its 
topography. On one of .these excursions he accidentally 
met Gordon’s friend, the “immaterial” man, as we know 
him. This encounter alarmed him, for he was sure of 
having been recognized, and he deemed it the safer plan to 
retire for a few days and allow any suspicions which might 
exist time to subside. Riding westward into the Indian 
Territory he held his course until the Arkansas River was 
reached, which happened just as our touring friends were 
pitching tent for the night. Divining rightly that they 
were strangers in that part of the country, he soon in- 
formed himself by a few adroit questions and covert ob- 
servations that the party was from a distant state. So he 
made overtures for a night’s lodging. The jolly crowd was 
not loath to entertain him, and the night was spent at 
cards, in which “Bill” lost one hundred dollars. The next 
morning he took his departure and determined to end the 


134 


GLADYS 


adventure by capturing Gladys at the first opportunity 
offering. The day on which the abduction was made he 
was again met by the “immaterial” man, and this time 
was partially recognized. But he resolved to carry out 
his scheme and run all risks. The results of this effort 
are already in possession of the reader, and we close this 
chapter with the statement that our amicus curio is well 
on his way to the far west. 


CHAPTER XI. 


“I’ve known, if ever mortal knew, the spells of Beauty’s thrall, 
And if my song has told them not, my soul has felt them all.” 

— Thomas Campbell. 

Charles Pemberton asked permission of Doctor Grey- 
done to spend a few weeks at the latter’s home for the 
purpose of hunting and enjoying the fine climate of the 
Boston Mountains, which, compared with that of his Illi- 
nois home, was yet warm and more springlike until much 
later in the season. 

The Doctor, whose suspicions had been reenforced by a 
hint from Daphne and Aunt Alice, was confident that the 
game the young man contemplated capturing was to be 
taken by the little love god’s bow and not by the deadly 
rifle of the ordinary sportsman. Being in that pleasant 
frame of mind which always accompanies the gratification 
of the heart’s higher and holier emotions, he was not 
averse to accepting the young man’s companionship. And, 
furthermore, he thought that such a course would offer 
good opportunity to know more intimately the young gen- 
tleman ’s mental and moral make up. He felt that Gladys 
Gordon’s happiness was, in no inconsiderable degree, en- 
trusted to his keeping, and it was his duty to inform him- 


136 


GLADYS 


self on all things likely to affect her welfare. It never 
was his intention to consent to her marriage, no matter 
how desirable an offer she might receive, until she had 
reached her majority; and, besides this, her education 
must be cared for, and that would take several years. Yet 
he well knew that the young heart, inexperienced and re- 
cently turned loose in the fresh, inviting fields of love, 
must be gently managed, or otherwise the sweetly trust- 
ing soul might be filled with the bitterness of a blasted 
life. 

The intercourse of the young man and Doctor Greydone 
was of that nature which always characterizes the inter- 
course of educated gentlemen. As has been recorded, 
Pemberton had finished his studies, so far as a general 
education goes; and it was his intention to take time in 
deciding for his life work. When the decision had been 
made, then he would spend two or more years on the par- 
ticular specialty which seemed best suited to his mental 
capacities. His predilection was for the profession of the 
law; but he would yet awhile keep all courses under ad- 
visement and make a selection later on. While he was 
quite an orator for one so young, and reveled in the poetry 
and the ideality of a bright imagination, he was also a 
strong, logical thinker, and frequently, though with the 
greatest respect, startled the more experienced reasoning 
powers of Doctor Greydone into rapid action by pointing 
out new and untrodden paths of mental exploration in a 
manner which would have done credit to a much older 
head. But it was in matters pertaining to morals that 
Doctor Greydone was the more anxious. Yet, however 
delicate the distinction might be betwixt the right and the 


GLADYS 


137 


wrong of a given case to which attention was directed, the 
Doctor was always much gratified to observe that the 
young student rarely failed to properly classify conditions 
and actions according to their ethical merits. 

On one occasion, in a trial before a justice of the peace 
where 4 ‘the law seemed to weigh equity down,” Doctor 
Greydone asked Pemberton, should he have been the jus- 
tice, what would have been his ruling in the case? Pem- 
berton replied that in such a case he would have risked a 
reversal of judgment by a superior court and ruled in line 
with the moral rights involved. 

“Then,” said Doctor Greydone, “suppose you had been 
the attorney for the client whose contention was sustained 
by the law, what would have been your course?” 

“I would not have taken advantage of law to enforce 
wrong,” replied Pemberton quickly. 

“I fear you will never succeed as a lawyer,” rejoined 
Greydone. “But can you give any good reason why you 
prefer such strict moral honesty when success, frequently 
made more certain by an admitted construction of the law, 
points out a more pleasant road?” 

“Nothing better,” said the young man earnestly, “than 
that my mother’s life is without moral flaw, and her mem- 
ory is always with me.” 

“That reason is sufficient,” said Greydone. 

Several letters passed between Doctor Greydone and 
Pemberton’s relatives and acquaintances in Illinois, at the 
young man’s request, and these were of a very satisfac- 
tory nature. Pemberton senior had written the Doctor to 
see that his son’s drafts were honored at Fayetteville and 
Van Buren, and a nice honorary was sent, payable to Grey- 


138 


GLADYS 


done’s order, providing for the comfort of his young 
friend, that he might not seem a burden or in any way 
add to the inconvenience of his host. Greydone also re- 
ceived kindly, loving letters from Mrs. Pemberton, asking 
watchful care for her only boy, whose first outing had so 
curiously thrown him under the admonitions of so capable 
a mentor ; for the Doctor was well known to several scien- 
tific societies in as many of the larger cities of the Union. 

And so the young man’s time was spent in company of 
the Doctor as he visited his patients, fishing, hunting and 
reading, with an occasional day at Linwood; for it must 
be kept in mind that he had a large predilection for the 
company of the kind friends at that lovely home, who per- 
suaded themselves that, as Aunt Alice said: 

“Dat young man Pemberton went an’ done fo’ us a 
mighty heap when he draw bead on dat bad Spanisher 
what had stole our sweet leetle gal.” 

Of course Doctor Greydone was also a frequent visitor 
with the same dear friends, but his enjoyments, while 
lively enough, were more sober-hued than were those of 
the two younger people. 

One often wonders if it be possible to encompass the 
workings of a young girl ’s heart in its first experiences in 
that rainbow-tinted world which has just been surrend- 
ered to that mighty and all-ruling monarch, Love. We 
place the emotional kaleidoscope to the eye, and each 
turn flashes the glory of a new, ecstatic dream “which 
mortal has not dared to dream before,” while the young 
dreamer repeats over and over to herself: 

“O! it is wonderful! How can it be 
Coming for me, for me!" 


GLADYS 


139 


Yet for all the boundlessness of sweet flowing cadences 
hymned in 

“The spirits deepest fountains 
Where the holy passions dwell,” 

there are paradoxical outbursts of insane action that star- 
tle the beholder for their incongruities and seemingly ab- 
solute lack of motive. There are tears without sorrow, 
laughter without joy, sorrow without tears and joy with- 
out a smile. There are heartaches, desperation, stubborn- 
ness, fickleness, volubility, taciturnity, insomnia and 
sleep, all commixed and commingled in a crazy patchwork, 
psychical quilt that would have landed our grandmothers 
in an insane asylum could they have attempted its repro- 
duction from all the odds and ends in the scrap basket of 
all time. 

During one of the gentlemen’s visits at Linwood, ar- 
rangements were perfected for a picnic to take place on 
the last Thursday of August, and the young folks were 
all in a tumult of preparation for the grand event. The 
place selected was a beautiful spring, surrounded and pro- 
tected from the sunshine’s too ardent beams by a mag- 
nificent grove of forest trees, some five miles southwest 
of Linwood Kest. 

Doctor Greydone promised to bring his carriage for 
Daphne and Gladys, and Mr. Pemberton declared that he 
would be compelled to forego a day’s hunting in order to 
be sure that Gladys would not make another attempt to 
run away with some Spaniard or Hottentot or what not, 
“for,” he asserted, “she looks as if determined to capture 
a whole nation of some kind of people or another.” 


140 


GLADYS 


“I’ll commence on you to try my hand,” said she, as, 
suiting the action to the word, she pinched his arm till he 
yelled : 

“Murder! I surrender!” 

“Too easy a conquest. Not enough of glory in it!” 
And she gave him another pinch, and ran behind Uncle 
Watt, calling: “Keep him off! Keep him off! Don’t let 
him get me!” 

Uncle Watt happened to be passing through the yard 
when the affairs of the picnic were being settled, so he 
said : 

4 4 Why, chil ’ ! 1 1 ’o ’t yo ’ had him ! He sclaim he s ’ren- 
der!” 

4 4 O ! he ’s got fight in him ! Look at his eyes ! ’ ’ she cried. 

“Humph!” grunted the old negro, looking at the laugh- 
ing face before him. “Dem eyes look mo’ lak fun dan 
fight. ’Sides yo’ ’menced it an’ now dun an’ gone an’ 
run! Dat’s a cowa’d.” 

“You know I’m no coward !” Seizing his head between 
her two hands she shook it till he saw stars. 

“G’way fum heah, gal, an’ fout you’ own fights! Yo’ 
shake all my brains out ! ’ ’ 

“What all dat rumpus ’bout?” called Aunt Alice from 
the kitchen door. 

4 4 Why, dis skeeterin’ wil’ cat don’ gon’ an’ shuck all 
my brains to a po’ltis,” replied Uncle Watt. 

“Better plaster them on your rheumatiz,” laughed the 
girl. 

4 4 Why, Wattie honey! What fo’ she shak’ yo’ poo’ ol’ 
brains fo’?” 


GLADYS 


141 


“La! Aunt Alice, I was just making him play ‘dig 
’taters,’ ” Gladys said, referring to a playful, forced nod- 
ding of the head practiced by one child on another for 
amusement. 

During all this melee Pemberton stood convulsed with 
laughter. The oddity of the whole affair greatly amused 
him. Beside he detected in Gladys’ actions and words an 
exceedingly exuberant flow of feeling. Indeed, though 
she would not have acknowledged it for a world, she was 
very happy at the thought that Pemberton was to be her 
escort to the picnic. 

Doctor Greydone and Daphne now came out from the 
parlor, where a long conversation had been held on the 
subject of Gladys Gordon’s education. It was decided at 
this time to send her to Lexington, Kentucky, where they 
were satisfied that Christian hearts and eyes would watch 
over her college days with jealous and kindly care. It 
was also decided that Gladys should be informed of this, 
and it would be necessary for her to prepare her wardrobe 
and attend to all things necessary, so far as it could be 
done now, for a four year’s course, with no vacations ex- 
cept the regular summer ones. Doctor Greydone believed, 
and in this Daphne fully concurred, that the very best way 
to get an education was to get it with all one’s might; 
hence no time must be lost in useless distractions of the 
mind from a prescribed course of study, though it was well 
known to them that proper care of the health and neces- 
sary relaxations from mental work must not be under- 
valiied or neglected. 

In their consultations they had fully discussed the prob- 
abilities of an attachment, more than mere friendship, ex- 


142 


GLADYS 


isting between their ward and young Pemberton. To this 
they could offer no objections, provided the young people 
would allow themselves to be governed by right reason 
and wait until time should prove the strength, depth and 
worth of their affections. With this view, it was agreed 
that the Doctor should ascertain the status of Pemberton *s 
mind on this point, and Daphne should pursue a like course 
with Glayds. All this was taken into account with that 
higher love of right and duty which fully recognizes the 
wonderful workings of the young human heart “in its 
earliest love.” 

The visitors took their departure and were driving leis- 
urely along the beautiful shaded road, admiring the first 
autumn tints which had come as messengers foretelling the 
beginning of the end when 

“In the hollow of the grove the withered leaves lie dead, 
And rustle to the eddying gust and to the rabbit’s tread.” 

When man without hope in God views this seemingly 
universal giving up of life, to the right and to the left, 
above and around, something akin to the recklessness of 
the British officer in India takes possession of his soul, and 
he feels the gloom of a deathless death closing over him, 
while the wailings of his tortured heart hymns the words 
of the doomed man: 

“We. meet ’neath the rounding rafter, 

Where the walls around us are bare: 

As they echo our peals of laughter, 

We think that the dead are there. 

Who dreads to the dust returning? 

Who shrinks from the sable shore, 


GLADYS 


143 


Where the high and holy yearning 
Of the soul shall be felt no more? 

None! Stand to your glasses steady! 

’Tis here that the respite lies! 

Here’s a cup to the dead already. 

And hurrah! for the next that dies!” 

And he, holding the goblet in his choreaic hand, gulps 
down at one draught all within reach of his thirsting, 
trembling soul, hoping thereby to steady his failing nerves 
for the final awful test which comes to all living forms on 
earth. How unlike to this spirit is that other which 
prompted the great Apostle to the Gentiles, when the 
winter night of a life of toil and sorrow for the love of 
Jesus was chilling his aged limbs with its icy blast, to long 
for a peaceful, hopeful rest in the grave, which his Master 
had hallowed for him. Hear him, after he had sung that 
heart-rending idyl of woes, exclaim: 

“For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my 
departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have 
finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth 
there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness which the 
Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and 
not to me only, but to all them also that love his appear- 
ing.' ’ 

Something of the former feeling had hued Doctor Grey- 
done ’s spirits as he contemplated the prehectic tint of the 
early dying leaves, suggesting Alice Carey ’s beautifully 
sad lines 

“O the cheek may have the color 
Of the red rose with the rest, 

When ’tis only just the hectic 
Of the dying leaf at best.” 


144 


GLADYS 


He felt that he must turn the horses’ heads again to 
Linwood Rest for the solace from sadness he always found 
in Daphne’s company. By a strong effort of the will he 
controlled himself and drove on. But in that hour of 
gloom came the determination to end a life without hope 
for the thither world and a life without the soothing com- 
panionship of woman’s trustful love in this. His was not 
a case beyond remedy, for the panacea could be had for 
the taking. But ah ! my friends, readers of my weak effort 
to pluck the prickles and thorns from bleeding human 
hearts and lead the hungering ones to the heavenly feast 
where those who partake shall thirst and hunger no more, 
how many lonely souls have you encountered, fainting and 
weary, along life ’s stony pathway whose only food was the 
chaffy, tasteless “dead sea apples,” seasoned by memories 
of bright but blasted hopes, and whose only drink was a 
handful of water scooped from the ocean of the long ago 
and salted with the tears falling over the grave of a dead 
love? You say you don’t know? Well, perhaps not ! But 
do you ever remember of having held the cup of consola- 
tion to parched and wrinkled lips while the breeze from 
another and unknown land toyed with the white locks 
above them? If you have so ministered, let me tell you, 
as I now walk where I can hear the roar of the surge that 
divides time from the timeless, that ere long a now feeble 
and withered hand will grasp the golden pen of God’s 
love and write your name and a record of the good deed 
opposite in the angel’s book of remembrance, never to be 
erased while the sun of Righteousness banishes night and 
suffering from the aeons of eternity. 


GLADYS 


145 


To a man of Doctor Greydone’s kindness of heart and 
firmness of will, to think was to act, and he determined 
then and there that on the day of the picnic he would tell 
Daphne all his thoughts and ask her to unite, without un- 
necessary delay, her sweet life to his. And he knew she 
would be willing to go with him to that altar where they 
would offer themselves a willing, “living sacrifice” to the 
service of God in accordance with the command of the 
loving Master. 

A quail, startled from its hiding place at the roadside, 
flew up and aroused him from his reverie. 

“I beg your pardon,” said he, turning to his companion, 
and at the same time quickening the walk of the horses 
with a gentle touch of the whip. “But I was thinking of 
many things and forgot that I had company.” 

“I respect your thoughts, whatever they may have 
been,” said the young man, who had watched his com- 
panion’s meditative mood with kindly interest. “Life,” 
continued he, “is such that one cannot go through it in 
constant glee and laughter, if one should wish to live it as 
it should be lived. I feel quite sure that our sober, thought- 
fid moments are our most profitable ones. Yet, perhaps, 
it is no sin for young hearts to be happy and joyful. But 
I ask pardon now, for I am too young to know much of 
life and its great responsibilities. Still I hope to learn, 
and learn rightly, as time goes on.” 

“I am glad to hear you speak so,” replied Greydone, 
“for there is a subject in which we are all intimately con- 
cerned, and on which I wish to speak to you. I beg you 
to believe me when I say that no idle curiosity or prying 
disposition dictates what I shall say.” 


146 


GLADYS 


“Be assured, my dear sir,” interrupted Pemberton, 
“that I have the utmost confidence in, and respect for, 
anything you may find it your duty to say.” 

“Thank you! I will be frank and sincere with you. I 
have believed that with your first meeting with Gladys 
Gordon a mutual attachment sprang up between you. As 
you must know, she is but a child in years ; but I believe 
her mind and heart are above, how much above I will not 
venture to say, the ordinary. She lately came in posses- 
sion of some money. Had this not happened my plans 
would have been the same for her. These plans are to 
give her as good an education as four years at school can 
give. Should you and she retain each other’s confidence 
and respect till the end of that time I shall be very glad 
to know it. If this attachment is destined to fade, as 
many do in time, it were better for all concerned that it 
should end now. I do not believe you intend to trifle 
with her heart. Had I so thought, you would have known 
it ere this time. As it is your intention to return to your 
home soon, I wish to ask that any correspondence between 
you will be limited to one letter each per month. And 
allow me to suggest, further, that it appears best to me 
for both of you that no formal vows be entered into at 
present. Of course your young hearts, if you watch over 
them properly, will find sufficient temperate and fitting 
words to satisfy each other’s demands on esteem and 
friendship to use no more endearing terms. It seems well 
that you should know the young lady’s history, and I will 
give it you, without equivocation or mental reservation, 
so far as I am possessed of it.” 

He then gave a succinct account of all matters which 


GLADYS 


147 


bore on Gladys’ life, omitting nothing that would throw 
light on her character and reputation. 

The young man paid the most respectful attention to all 
that was said, and when Greydone had finished he made 
reply as follows: 

“I admit cheerfully and with great pleasure your right 
as Miss Gordon’s guardian to know of and understand 
perfectly everything which concerns her welfare. I am 
proud of your confidence, stated so frankly, in my honor 
and integrity. My character is my own property, and I 
owe no one anything for it, such as it is, except my par- 
ents and my Creator. But my reputation is the investment 
of confidence in me by those who know me. I am proud 
of that investment and shall always jealously endeavor to 
keep it at par. As to the esteem existing between Miss 
Gordon and myself, I will say frankly, as you have done, 
that you have read our minds in this regard aright. And 
although we have made no promises to each other, and 
have scarcely spoken of our love, which I believe to be as 
deep as our souls and as pure as virtue’s own purity and 
as lasting as the ages of God, yet we have read in each 
other our life’s destiny, and that is, God willing, we shall 
forever, side by side, bless the fortune or providence which 
threw us together on that strange occasion. I have not yet 
decided on my vocation. I wish to say, and I hope to be 
free from all ostentation in saying it, that my finances, 
thanks to my father, are in such shape that money-making 
will not be a factor in my choice. I have been told by 
those who know me best that I have some forensic ability, 
and this has somewhat directed my attention to the law. 
Yet I have not decided, but must do so soon, for I wish 


148 


GLADYS 


to settle down in my life work, and I must take a special 
course of study before so doing. Now may I ask pardon 
for this reference to myself and my affairs? I deemed it 
necessary and proper that you should know.” 

“Do not mention it,” said the Doctor, heartily. 

“Then,” resumed Pemberton, “I will say further that 
your plans for Miss Gordon ’s future have my most cordial 
approval. And I now ask permission from you, as her 
second father, to tell her my whole heart and inform her, 
without claiming any bond, that Jacob’s fourteen years’ 
waiting for Rachel shall be to me as a summer day. Of 
course I shall fill the limit allowed us for correspondence. 
And,” added he with a smile, “hope to obtain your and 
her permission to supplement this correspondence with a 
few weeks of heaven at Linwood during her summer va- 
cations.” 

“I suppose there will be no trouble about that,” said 
Greydone. “I expect her father home soon, and then, 
perhaps, he will relieve me of my charge. But I am as- 
sured that he will adopt my plans and favor all my ar- 
rangements. ’ ’ 

4 ‘ I shall very much wish that her father be consulted on 
all points in which I am concerned. But one thing I wish 
to mention further. I shall not be dependent on a profes- 
sion should reverses overtake me. I have a fair knowl- 
edge, both theoretical and practical, of civil engineering; 
and since my childhood my summer vacations have been 
spent at farmwork. So one might say I am Jack of some 
trades if not of all; and while I do not like exhausting 
manual labor, I do not feel above any honest effort which 
circumstances may call me to.” 


GLADYS 


149 


“I am glad to know you are so well prepared to meet 
life as it may come to you,” said Doctor Greydone. “Now 
permit me to enquire when you purpose leaving us?” 

“In the course of a week or ten days.” 

“Then you can enjoy the picnic with us.” 

“I had hoped to trouble you with my presence in your 
carriage.” 

“It will suit me fully as well for you to drive my bays 
to the buggy,” suggested the Doctor. 

“Thank you, indeed,” said Pemberton, feeling that he 
was being offered an opportunity for a private conver- 
sation with Gladys; and his eyes looked the thanks his 
tongue uttered. 

Home was reached and the conversation ended. 

On examining his mail for the day Doctor Greydone 
found a letter from Santa Fe enclosing a check for fifteen 
hundred dollars. The writer instructed him to use one 
thousand dollars for the benefit of Gladys Gordon, and the 
balance was to be a remuneration for the expense and care 
he and Daphne had incurred in the girl’s behalf. The 
letter bore the signature of a stranger, but undoubtedly 
was written by a man of business. 

At the time Greydone and Pemberton were so earnestly 
conversing on their way home, Daphne and Gladys were 
as intently discussing the same conditions, in the cool 
summer arbor so luxuriantly shaded by the full foliage 
and bloom of the native trumpet vine, the clematis, Vir- 
ginia creeper and the odoriferous hoyea, with its magnif- 
icent and profuse umbils. 

“Darling,” said Daphne, “what do you think of your 
young friend, Mr. Pemberton?” 


150 


GLADYS 


1 ‘ 0 don ’t ask me!” she replied, blushing. ‘ ‘ I am afraid 
I like him ! — and I don ’t want to — that is, I don ’t know if 
it is right and proper,” and her confusion increased with 
each word. 

“Well, dear, there is nothing wrong in your liking him 
that I can see. He rendered you a great service, and you 
would naturally feel grateful. This is certainly right and 
proper. Besides, he seems a very worthy person, and so 
long as he does not belie his seeming we may give him our 
confidence in a friendly and hospitable way.” 

“But that isn’t it,” said the young girl rapidly. “0! 
May I tell you? And will you be cross with me? You 
have always been so, so good and kind to me.” And the 
tears came as the agitated one hid her face, now suffused 
to the temples, in her hands. 

“Why certainly, my dear! And I never, never will be 
cross with my little pet. How could I ? Indeed, how could 
I?” And Daphne drew the weeping girl to her bosom, 
and kissed her tenderly and lovingly, while she waited for 
the calm that always follows the storm. 

When composed. Gladys said slowly and deliberately, 
as if analyzing her heart as she voiced its every shade of 
emotion : 

“I do not understand it; but it seems that, now father 
and mother are gone and he is here, I would like to be 
with him always. This appears to me ingratitude towards 
you, and for this reason I try to hate the feeling and the 
object of it. But I can’t.” And she dropped a few more 
tears. “And when he is away I want him back ; and when 
he is present I am afraid of him. No ! — not that ! But I 
feel that I must run away from him, and at the same time 


GLADYS 


151 


I want to run to him. And when he does anything or says 
anything real nice and kind, and he is always doing and 
* saying these things, I feel like I must slap his jaws, and 
then cry because I did it ! What is it ? What is the mat- 
ter with me ? Am I losing my mind ? ’ ’ 

The sincerity of her questions was unmistakable, as her 
great brown eyes looked pleadingly for an answer. 

Governor Bob Taylor, of Tennessee, would have an- 
swered these questions by saying that the patient was suf- 
fering from the disease which he was the first to classify 
as “the drunken hiccoughs of love.” And Governor Bob 
ought to know, for doubtless his heart hears pittings of 
the sweet disease. 

“No, darling; you are not losing your mind,” said her 
friend. “You have only lost your dear little heart and 
don’t know it ! You simple child !” And she covered the 
blushing face with loving kisses. 

“Don’t be angry with me! I couldn’t help it! And 
I tried so hard!” And she laughed a clear, ringing laugh 
that wakened the echoes and startled the Bob White into 
cutting short his cheery note as he sat on the back garden 
fence calling to his mate. 

“Well, child, let us talk further about this all important 
affair,” said Daphne, as she lightly pinched the still burn- 
ing cheek that dimpled before her. 

“ 6 I can ’t talk ! I want to cry ! ’ ’ And again the peal 
of laughter rang out clear and loud, until the old hill be- 
yond the spring threw back the notes like chimes from 
dreamland. 


152 


GLADYS 


“But we must talk, dear; because you know that soon 
you will enter school, and all these matters must be set- 
tled, so as not to interfere with your studies.” 

“But what will that poor boy do while I am gone so 
long?” asked Gladys. 

“Indeed, I had not thought much of that. Very likely 
he will take care of himself and be wanting to help take 
care of you. Now you must be sensible, darling. And 
when you enter school your whole mind must be given to 
your studies. Of course, if the young man should write 
you occasionally it will be your duty to answer him. But 
not too often, dear. 'I know you to be sensible, and you 
must act in all things just as you think your mother would 
approve if she were by your side.” 

“I will. Indeed, I will. I will go to school and study 
hard. I will try and learn all I am capable of learning. 
And I will never forget that to you and Doctor Greydone 
I owe — 0 so much ! so much ! I will try to prove myself 
worthy of your loving kindness.” 

She said all this as demurely and earnestly as if no 
emotional wave had ever crossed her innocent soul. 

“One thing more I wish to ask of you,” said Daphne, 
“for the dew is falling and we must go in — that is to 
never forget your mother’s beautiful faith in her hour of 
death. Your Savior is your best friend on earth. You 
will find all of his will concerning you in the New Testa- 
ment, as you have been taught in Sunday school and at 
church. Let His loving words and infinitely pure life 
guide you always and everywhere ; and when the time 
comes, as come it will sooner or later, that you must part 
with friends here, with a joy born only of an undying 


GLADYS 


153 


faith in Jesus as your Savior you can leave your loved 
ones in a bright hope that you will meet them again soon in 

“ ** * * a city you have not seen, 

Except in your hours of dreaming; 

Where mortal footsteps hath not been, 

To darken its soft, soft gleaming.’ 

“Let us go in now, love. It is getting damp.” 

Again kissing the young girl fondly, she arose, passed 
her arm around her, and together they silently walked into 
the house, too happy to allow the sound of speech to break 
the glory of the spell that bound them. 


CHAPTER XII. 


But our love it was stronger far than the love 
Of those who were older than we, 

Of many far wiser than we; 

And neither the angels in heaven above, 

Nor the demons down under the sea, 

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 

— Edgar Allen Poe. 

The day of the contemplated picnic dawned bright, clear 
and cool. A pronounced electric storm, with a copious fall 
of rain the day previous, had purified the air, and all na- 
ture was quivering with the life-giving ozone. The party 
consisted of Doctor Grey done and Daphne in the Doctor’s 
carriage; Mr. Pemberton and Gladys behind the Doctor’s 
bays; Elder and Mrs. Kirk Baxter, of Springfield, Mis- 
souri, who were visitors at Linwood for a few days prev- 
ious to the Elder’s commencing a protracted meeting in 
the neighborhood; and, to look after the “gals,” Aunt 
Alice, driving the “leetle hoss,” with Uncle Watt bringing 
up the rear and the refreshments at the same time, and 
also determined to “look arter dat ol’ ’owan o’ mine an’ 
see she don’ go an’ cripple herse’f.” 

The place chosen was something near five miles from 


GLADYS 


155 


Linwood in a southwesterly direction, and was an ideal 
spot for a day’s recreation. A cold, sparkling spring 
leaped with bubbling, gurgling laughter from beneath a 
bluff of limestone and ran in sportive dance adown the 
forest shaded valley, where belated violets peeped and 
blinked from mossy banks at the little fishes sporting in 
the clear eddies. The modest tints of the wild asters, ag- 
eratum and fringed gentian toned down the flashing red- 
ness of the tanager oestiva, and, with the ripening odor of 
the May apple, charmed sight and sense with a foretaste 
of elysium. 

The drive to the grounds was a most interesting one to 
at least two of our party — the Doctor and Daphne. Each 
had to relate to the other the conversations with Pem- 
berton and Gladys; and Daphne was informed of the 
money received from Santa Fe; and both agreed in the 
surmise that Gladys’ father had sent it. They could not 
settle on the relations of the “immaterial man” to Carrol 
Gordon, and could not place him as a factor, except to 
count on his aid and friendship, should these ever be 
needed. They somehow were impressed with the notion 
that he was Gordon ’s agent in a sense, while acting largely 
an independent course for himself. Having decided every- 
thing, so far as it could be done, relative to Gladys and 
young Pemberton, their thoughts naturally turned to their 
own affairs. 

“Darling,” said the Doctor, “I have made up my mind 
that there is no middle ground between absolute atheism 
and faith in the story of the Cross as told by the four evan- 
gelists. One position or the other must be taken ; for hesi- 
tating between the two, after proper investigation, shows 


155 


GLADYS 


either a bad heart or cowardice, and perhaps both. Athe- 
ism has nothing to commend it that meets the longings of 
the human soul. Neither does science or philosophy offer 
aught to meet the yearnings of the loving heart for a 
world unscorched by the sorrows of time. While, on the 
other hand, the life, death, burial and resurrection of 
Jesus, with all that these mean to humanity, leaves no 
chord of the human soul untouched by an infinite love. 
We may cavil over the supposed mistakes of Moses and 
the supersititous simplicity of the faith that centers in 
Jesus Christ as the Son of God; yet after death has si- 
lenced the cavillers from age to age, there stand the deca- 
logue and the Sermon on the Mount as catalytic agents 
purifying all climes and all times. If untrue, Christianity 
is superior to all truth to live by; if untrue, it is better 
than all truth to die by. I have decided to accept Jesus 
Christ as the Son of God and my Savior. Will you go with 
me, darling ?” 

“O ! This is the happiest day of my life,” said Daphne, 
placing both her hands in his and smiling through her 
tears. 

Other matters were discussed, of which the patient 
reader will learn later on. We know what was said, but 
it was told us as a secret, and it must remain sub rosa till 
the proper time. 

“ Driver,” said the Doctor, “take a little brisker gait, 
and let us get to the spring. It is getting along towards 
ten o ’clock . 9 9 

At the word the horses stepped more lively, and but 
little time was consumed the remainder of the way. 


GLADYS 


157 


Pemberton and Gladys had spent the time of the drive 
in talking over their different prospects for the coming 
few years. He told Gladys that he heartily approved of 
Doctor Grey done’s arrangements for a four years’ course 
for her at Lexington, Kentucky. He knew, he said, of the 
high moral tone of the school there. A young lady friend 
of his, a cousin in fact, had spent two years at that school, 
and was greatly pleased with it. When would she leave 
for her first year? 

“I think it is determined I must go about the middle 
of this month,” replied Gladys. 

“Why! That is but little more than a week. But I 
must be off even earlier. My father wishes me to choose 
a profession, and here I am, time nearly up, and I as much 
at sea as if there were no such things as professions. I 
wish you would choose for me.” He said this in a very 
earnest tone. 

“I would like to do so, if I only knew enough,” she re- 
plied with equal earnestness. “But it would hardly be 
expected of a girl not yet sixteen to do a thing which had 
baffled a man of twenty-one. [He felt flattered.] Why 
not consult your father or Doctor Greydone? Yes, and 
Mr. Baxter? They are all much better qualified to assist 
you than I am. Yet I would like to help you if I could, 
for then you might appreciate how deeply I feel the great 
obligation I am under to you, perhaps for my life, and 
certainly for relief from a serious and odious captivity.” 

“O, don’t mention that! If you knew the pleasure I 
have drawn from the consequences of that little episode 
you would accuse me of being glad that the Spaniard tried 
to carry you off. Indeed, I feel sometimes like doffing my 


158 


GLADYS 


hat and thanking him for being so mean to you.” And 
his eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“I’ll pinch you again if you don’t keep quiet,” she said, 
with pretense of carrying out her threat. 

“If you do, I’ll tell the preacher, and the preacher will 
tell the preacher’s wife, and the preacher’s wife will tell 
you that I said that I rode in a buggy today with the 
sweetest little pincher bug that ever humbugged a poor, 
lonely boy in the forests of Arkansas since buggy rides 
to picnics came in fashion.” 

While he was rattling out this harangue, her peals of 
laughter rang out like silver bells, and she was pinching 
his arm a dozen times — or more — but not very hard! 

“I believe I will ask Mr. Baxter’s opinion of what is 
best for me to do,” said he, after a few moments of 
thoughtful silence. “He seems to be a good man, and 
sensible. Besides, he is a scholar. He ought to be able 
to advise me.” 

“We have known him for a long time,” said she, all 
soberness now, ‘ 4 and we love him dearly. I have made up 
my mind to ask him to baptize me during this meeting.” 
Then she added gravely: “I believe all that the Bible 
says about Jesus: and I want to meet my mother over 
there.” Her eyes were sparkling and glowing, and were 
fixed on a shining rift in a cloud that looked as a portal 
to the unseen world. “And I do not love wrong and sin, 
and am sorry when I am guilty of them ; and 0 ! it is so 
sweet to think that sometime, somewhere, we shall kiss 
the lips and press the hands whose chilliness and pallid- 
ness we tried, when last we beheld them, to warm and re- 
tint with tears from our breaking hearts.” 


GLADYS 


159 


Charles Pemberton gazed in wonder and astonishment 
at the illuminated face before him. Dr. Greydone had 
told him that Gladys was more than an ordinary girl. But 
here he was looking into eyes transfigured, and reading 
wonderful depths of a soul that he felt could only be wor- 
shipped by the pure and the good. 

There was ‘‘hurrying to and fro,” unhitching teams, 
swinging hammocks, unloading baskets, and the usual 
hubbub of getting things ready for a good time generally. 
Aunt Alice soon had a fire burning, and on it steamed a 
pot of coffee. A bright inviting tea urn stood ready to 
brew the drink “fo’ de pa ’son,” “which cheers but does 
not inebriate.” Uncle Watt and Doctor Greydone ’s driver, 
assisted by Pemberton, had fed and watered the horses, 
and the spirit of enjoyment flowed like a deep river over 
all the camp. 

Aunt Alice announced dinner, and the picnickers gath- 
ered round the table with appetites whetted by good 
health, good feeling and clear consciences. Daphne, who 
stood at the head of the table, said: 

“Mr. Baxter, it would look like sin to partake of all 
these good things without thankfulness. Will you please 
ask God to accept our gratitude for his great kindness?” 

The elder, whose face always paled in love and awe 
when standing in the presence of Heaven’s King, raised 
his right hand, and, while reverently looking up, said : 

“Our Father who art in Heaven, as trusting children 
we ask Thee to accept the gratitude of our hearts for 
every moment’s enjoyment of Thy infinite care and kind- 
ness. 0 help us always to feel a dependency on Thee for 
a love which our finite minds cannot comprehend and our 


160 


GLADYS 


stammering tongues cannot properly acknowledge. Help 
us, each one, to do our whole duty while living, ever trust- 
ing that death will find us at life’s close resting on the 
everlasting arms. We plead all this in the name of Jesus. 
Amen. ’ ’ 

The responses were hearty and heartfelt, and all were 
impressed with a spirit of undoubting trust in the Giver 
of All Good and His ever-loving presence with those who 
unfalteringly rely on His mercy and loving kindness. 

The dinner passed with pleasant general chat; for none 
knew better how to direct a social conversation to edify, 
without tiring, than Elder Baxter and his estimable wife. 

Charles Pemberton seemed inclined to engineer the 
company into a groove of discussion which would let some 
light into his undecided mind as to what was best for a 
young man to do in order that such an one might, when 
the shadows deepened into the night of death, leave the 
world a little better than he found it. To this end he 
asked the Elder, What should be the governing motive as 
a mainspring of action for those who wished to write for 
themselves a fair item on the credit side of life’s ledger? 

“I believe the answer to your question may be framed 
in a very few words,” said Mr. Baxter. “I give it this 
way: ‘An all-absorbing desire for the everlasting happi- 
ness of every human being you meet, and its consequent, 
the moral and mental elevation of mankind toward the 
pattern left us in the life of Jesus Christ.’ ” 

“I admit the truth of the proposition as you state it, 
also its prima facia reasonableness,” said Pemberton. 
“Will you pardon me if I ask for its specific logic?” 

“Such requests need no apology,” replied the Elder. 


GLADYS 


161 


My reasoning is this : Self-preservation requires my own 
safety. For me to be safe, my neighbors should be good; 
hence, any course in life I may take which strengthens the 
moral nature of my neighbors proportionally increases my 
own safety. This argument applies to every individual, 
therefore takes in the whole world. It is purely a selfish 
argument. Again, that course in life which tends toward 
a plenum of human happiness is best for all human beings. 
I am included in this postulate. No one can be truly 
happy without first being truly good. To induce others 
to be good I must be so myself. Hence, to shape human 
life here and hereafter for the best, I must do that which 
tends to eliminate sin and, proportionally, increase right- 
eousness. Of course my argument presupposes capability, 
and would classify mankind accordingly. This is the phil- 
anthropic argument. The argument arising from a sense 
of duty will be strong or weak according to each one’s 
conscience. As a regret, I may add that ‘the harvest is 
ripe, but the laborers, indeed, are few.’ ” 

“Allow me to thank you, Mr. Baxter,” said the young 
man seriously. “You will probably never know the ser- 
vice you have rendered me. While you have been talking 
I have decided on my course in life. After awhile I wish 
to consult you a little further. Now, we must get as much 
of enjoyment as possible out of this beautiful day. Be- 
sides, I am taking more than my share of your kindness.” 

“My duty is always my pleasure,” said the Elder. “And 
if I have been instrumental, in even a small way, in aid- 
ing you to solve the problem of duty, the service bears its 
own reward.” 


162 


GLADYS 


“Well, little girl,” said he, turning to Gladys. “What 
are you going to do with yourself in the years to come, 
which we all hope will be many and bright ones ? ’ ’ 

“Be as good as I know how,” replied she, laconically. 

“Then she will be an angel. Don’t you think so, Mr. 
Pemberton?” laughed Mrs. Baxter, disposed to tease him 
pleasantly. 

“I hope not, while I have to be a human,” said he. 

“Miss Daphne, would you like for Miss Gladys to ‘take 
wings and fly away?’ ” 

“Not unless we were all prepared to fly too,” said 
Daphne. 

“Doctor, have you no fears of there being more than 
one angel in our party?” asked the Elder’s wife, looking 
archly at Daphne. 

“O!” said the Doctor, “people sometimes ‘entertain 
angels unawares,’ and if angels, there must be more than 
one — possibly more than two. Eh, Mr. Baxter?” 

“Them’s my sentiments,” replied the minister, pulling 
his wife’s ear lightly. 

‘ ‘ I cry quits ! ’ ’ said that lady. 

“Quit being an angel? Horrible!” retorted the Doctor. 

“Then I cry mercy!” 

“When did angel ever ask human for mercy before?” 

“Then, if we be angels, why do you not fall down and 
worship us?” asked the lady, still showing fight. 

“We do not wish to be called ‘fallen angels,’ ” said the 
Doctor. 

“0 frail man’s egotism! The statement implies that 
you are angels, but not ‘fallen,’ ” quickly retorted Mrs. 
Baxter. 


GLADYS 


163 


“True Christians do not worship angels,” said Mr. 
Baxter. 

“You are all bad enough to be ‘fallen angels,’ ” thrust 
Mrs. Baxter. 

Thus, but in varied topics, the conversation ran and 
the repartee played, till the appetites of all were satisfied 
and the meal finished. Mr. Baxter took possession of one 
of the hammocks, to which his careful wife brought a pil- 
low. Then he settled himself for a good rest. Mr. Pem- 
berton possessed himself of a campstool and took a seat 
by the side of the hammock, saying : 

“I beg to trouble you a few moments longer, Mr. Bax- 
ter, for your views expressed at dinner have deeply im- 
pressed me. I believe I am at that period of my life where 
I cannot afford to make a mistake.” 

“Command me in anything I can do for you,” said the 
Elder kindly. 

“Pardon me, but I do not wish to entertain a thought of 
command towards you.” 

“Then have it as you will,” very pleasantly. 

“It is information and advice that I would ask, and ask 
as a great favor. Would you mind to tell me where you 
graduated ? ’ ’ 

“Certainly not. Bethany College, Virginia, is my alma 
mater. ’ ’ 

“Suppose that I have decided to do what I can in telling 
the world the story of the Cross, would you advise me 
to spend a few years at that institution as the very best to 
be found?” 

“I certainly should so advise,” said the preacher. “And 


164 


GLADYS 


does this explain your manifest intent at dinner in keep- 
ing us to the line of thought we discussed?” 

“Yes, sir; and it was then I made choice of my life 
work. Will you think it egotism if I tell you that I am 
not compelled to any choice from mercenary motives? I 
simply wish to live and work for the benefit of my kind 
and to do my duty to my God as best I can with the lights 
before me. Meeting you and hearing you talk, as I said, 
has decided me, and I shall take up the work with single- 
ness of heart and an intense desire to turn men and women 
from the paths of sin into the way of eternal life. ’ ’ 

“Then by all means attend Bethany for three or four 
years,” said Mr. Baxter. “I feel like saying ‘God bless 
you ! ’ And here is my hand — you have my heart. But 
let me warn you that the path you have chosen is not de- 
void of thorns. Bitter, biting temptations to do and say 
wrong things will come to you all too soon. But in Christ 
Jesus you need not falter or fear. Trust him always and 
all will be well. I am proud of you.” And the old man’s 
eyes filled with tears. 

Pemberton accepted the proffered hand with firm pres- 
sure, and said : 

“Let me thank you from my deepest heart for your kind 
words and kinder interest in me. I shall never forget 
you. I have worried you, I fear. Will you please lie down 
and rest?” 

“Onoino! You have not worried me. I am too glad to 
be worried.” 

“Well, rest anyway, while I roam around and enjoy my- 
self. They will be jealous that I am so favored by you,” 


GLADYS 


165 


said he smiling. And he walked off to join Doctor Grey- 
done and the ladies. 

Time passed very pleasantly as the afternoon wore 
away. Mr. Baxter, after an hour’s nap, arose much re- 
freshed, and entered into all the little enjoyments that go 
to make up the pleasures of a picnic. Daphne had climbed 
some six or eight feet up the bluff at the head of the spring 
and was trying with a long pole to draw down some wild 
flowers which grew ten or twelve feet above her from a 
jutting rock which held in place a little soil of leaf mold. 
Pemberton saw her intent and effort, and came to her aid. 

“Wait a moment, Miss Daphne,” said he, “and I will 
pull up by that leaning tree and secure them for you. 
The tree is near enough to the bluff of rock for a brace.” 

“I fear you will fall. Be very careful!” said she, as he 
commenced the ascent. 

He obtained the flowers as he stood on another projec- 
tion just below where they grew. He turned his face from 
the cliff to the valley, and was enchanted by the view. He 
exclaimed with rapture : 

“How beautiful! How beautiful! Here is a throne fit 
for a king!” and he sat down on the projecting rock. 

The exclamation attracted Gladys’ attention. She 
sprang to her feet with startled mien and called: 

“0! come back, Mr. Pemberton! You will fall and — 
and — and — kill me!” 

The last words were drawn into an agonizing wail. 

“No danger. I am coming!” he shouted. 

“Lak to know how it’s gwine to kill her fo’ him to fall. 
Humph!” said Uncle Watt. 


166 


GLADYS 


All present smiled, and Aunt Alice came to the blushing 
girl ’s side and stood in a position so that no one could see 
her face. 

“Nebber min’, honey!” said the kind old soul. “He’s 
all right. See! He’s down a ’ready. Poo’ chil’! She 
nebber lak to see any body hurt. Heart too kin ’ f o ’ dat, ’ * 
addressing the others. 

Daphne and Pemberton came up, and their quick wit 
took in the situation at once. 

“See! Mrs. Baxter,” said Pemberton. “I collected toll 
for gathering Miss Daphne’s flowers. Here are some for 
you.” 

“0! you are keeping back the largest one,” charged 
that lady. 

“This is a souvenir of the day. I can’t part with it, at 
least for a while. Miss Gladys, come and see the beautiful 
species of the gentian, called commonly, Sampson snake- 
root.” And they walked off together. 

By his tact he had extricated her from all embarrass- 
ment. When they returned she carried in her hand a 
bouquet of the gentian in which nestled his souvenir flower 
and a sprig of forget-me-not (myosotis palustris). On 
giving her the gentian he had said: 

“I give you this flower, knowing your goodness and 
kindness of heart, so very gentle, yet powerful enough to 
direct strong men in the path of right. And when I see 
with what ease and grace your little hand holds the 
Bearded Illyrian King, I am reminded that all power and 
strength must be guided by love, if the world ever attains 
to the millenium. When you are versed in the nomen- 
clature of botany, you will love, I hope, to think of what 


GLADYS 


167 


I have said of the flower. A more tender hope is implied 
in the forget-me-not. I have no fears that its mission will 
be unheeded.” 

She took the flowers from his hand, thanked him with 
childlike simplicity, and as he looked into her eyes he 
caught another bewildering glimpse of unexplored depths 
of soul which made her “more than an ordinary girl.” 

The day’s outing was over, horses were watered, har- 
nessed and stood waiting the word for the drive home. 

“Miss Gladys,” said Pemberton, as the bays stepped 
leisurely along, 1 1 this will be my last opportunity for con- 
versation with you before my return home. I want to tell 
you how very thankful I am to a kind providence and 
your dear, good friend, Doctor Greydone, for the great 
pleasure given me in your company this summer. And if 
words could do my heart justice, I would try and say 
something of the delicate consideration and priceless 
friendship you have bestowed on me during the same time. 
I also ask as a favor that you will, in some way known 
only to a true woman’s heart, let Miss Daphne know how 
much I appreciate her kindness and beautiful courtesy. 
But there is something yet that presses hard for utter- 
ance and gives me worry lest I may not say it right. How- 
ever, I will try. I have talked with Doctor Greydone, and 
in all I may say and do I shall not exceed the limits of his 
warrant. I wish it had been vouchsafed me to talk to 
your father as I have to Doctor Greydone. But this was 
not to be. I shall leave you with the glad hope in my 
heart that when our college days are over we shall meet as 
happily as I now will part sorrowfully from you. Doctor 
Greydone gave me permission to write you once a month, 


168 


GLADYS 


should this meet your approval. I also have the hope that 
I may see you during our vacations as opportunity may 
offer. Now may I ask if your friendship for me is such 
that all this is not disagreeable to you?” 

He waited patiently for an answer. It came at last, like 
the tremulous cooing of the lonely dove. 

“0, how could I refuse anything to one who has made 
my little world so bright and happy? Then it will be so 
sweetly pleasant to think that you do not regret taking 
me away from that Spaniard.” And she gave him one of 
those rare smiles which the soul of the true man would 
almost barter its everlasting destiny for. He took her 
hand and said: 

“I shall remember. Indeed, to forget would be annihi- 
lation. In the letters I will write to you, darling Gladys 
(I must call you so once before parting), I will outline the 
life I hope to live and the good I hope to do. Will you 
feel free to tell me in answer of your hopes and your joys, 
and troubles, if you have any, which God forbid?” 

‘ ‘ I will be so happy to know I can write my mind freely 
to so true a friend,” she replied. 

“Then it is settled,” said he. “And I am the happiest 
man on earth today. I will say good-bye at your home this 
evening.” 

“I hate to soe you go.” She said this so sincerely and 
simply that he was almost unnerved. 

“And I as much regret going; but so it must be. We 
must prepare ourselves, in the best manner possible, for 
the battle of life that is before us. We will be all the hap- 
pier for the preparation. And to hopeful hearts and busy 
brains time speeds on lightning wings. One thing more : 


GLADYS 


169 


I am glad of the information you gave me this morning 
of your intention of obeying the Master in baptism. When 
you receive my first letter I will be your brother in all 
that pertains in God’s will to mankind.” 

“This makes me happier still, when I thought my cup 
was already full. It is strange how the measure of joy 
can be filled still fuller when it is already lipping to the 
brim.” 

Here was another peep at the unknown depths of a soul 
whose flowing tides washed unknown shores. He took her 
hand, pressed it warmly, and the silence was unbroken 
when they halted at her home. 

A half hour was given for Pemberton’s good-byes with 
the friends so recently made but who had become so very 
dear. Aunt Alice and Uncle Watt gave him a hearty 
handshake and a heartfelt “God bless you.” Daphne ex- 
tended a warm invitation to him to consider her home as 
always bearing a welcome for him. He had not seen 
Gladys since their arrival, and was standing in the door 
waiting to say good-bye to her. Doctor Greydone was 
biding in his carriage till the parting was over. Daphne 
said to Pemberton: 

“I will see what it is keeps Gladys,” and she stepped 
to the back parlor, where she found the girl in tears. 

“Come, darling,” said she. “Dry your tears and tell 
him good-bye.” 

Gladys ran quickly back to the lavatory, dashed her 
face with cold water, applied a towel and walked up to 
him, smiling. 

“Will you kiss me farewell, Gladys?” he asked earn- 
estly. 


170 


GLADYS 


‘ ‘ May I, Daphne ? Is it right ? ’ ’ called she at the parlor 
door. 

“Is what right?” asked Daphne. 

“To kiss him good-bye.” 

“Certainly, dear, if you wish to.” 

She stepped to him, took his face between her little 
white hands, gazed at him with eyes in which the dream 
of a tear was the setting for the gem of fadeless love. She 
drew his face down; her lips touched his cheek like the 
breath of a zephyr. 

“Good-bye! And may angels ever guard you!” she 
whispered. 

He tried to grasp her hand. Quick as thought she lightly 
tapped his cheek with her right hand, and ran blushing 
to her room. Daphne heard him say with emotion: 

“God bless the darling forever. I will keep that kiss 
by the side of my mother’s fondest caress, and these shall 
be my talisman to guard me from harm till I sleep in the 
arms of Jesus!” 

He and Doctor Greydone drove off, and in due time 
arrived at the latter’s home. On Saturday following he 
took rail at Van Buren and soon reached his own home, 
where his parents and friends gave him a royal welcome. 
Two weeks later he was enrolled as a student for the 
ministry in Bethany College. The first Lord’s Day fol- 
lowing his entry he was baptized by the immortal Pen- 
dleton. Here we leave him for awhile. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


I am not as in days of boyhood. 

There were hours of joyousness that came 
•Like angel shapes upon my heart. 

But they are altered now, and rise 
On memory’s view like statues pale. 

By a dim fount of tears. 

And there were springs, upon whose streams 
The sweet young flowers leaned 
To list the gush of music. — 

But their depths have turned to dust. 

There, too, were holy lights that shone. 

Sweet rainbows of the Spirit, o’er 

The skies of new existence: but their gleams, 

Like the Pleiad of the olden time, 

Have fallen from their zenith, and are lost 
’Mid the cold mockeries of earth. 

Alone! 

I am alone! 

The guardians of my young 
And sinless years have gone 
And left me here, 

A solitary wanderer. 

— Anonymous. 


The “immaterial man’’ steadily pursued his journey 
westward for many days, sleeping at night wrapped in his 


172 


GLADYS 


blanket wherever dark fell on him. He had traveled the 
route many times, and to be lost or thrown from his course 
was almost an impossibility. 

In due time he reached Santa Fe, where, without delay, 
he found his friend, Carrol Gordon. After a good meal at 
the restaurant the two walked out for a stroll, and Gordon 
was informed of the attempted abduction of Gladys and 
the capture of the abductor. He also informed his friend 
of Doctor Greydone’s intention to place Gladys at school 
in Lexington, Kentucky, and also of the safe delivery of 
the five hundred dollars to her only a few days after her 
mother’s death. Gordon expressed great sorrow because 
the money had come too late to lighten the burdens of the 
mother’s life at its close. He said to his friend, in turn, 
that on account of the Spaniard’s absence from the coun- 
try he had been enabled to convey all his cached gold to 
the bank, and also, he and Corwin had washed out and de- 
posited about thirty thousand dollars to the share of each 
from the mines, beside the amount he had when the part- 
nership was formed. This amount seemed to satisfy him, 
and he had conveyed his interest to Corwin with a con- 
tract that the latter should pay him ten per cent of the 
net profits of the proceeds; and if the mine should be 
transferred to other parties, a like per cent of the pur- 
chase money should be his. Thus, he was free to go and 
come as inclination might 'lead. 

He had a longing desire to see his little daughter Gladys, 
and as soon as his affairs could be arranged he determined 
to return to his old home. His friend had told him of 
Gladys’ love and expressed wish that he would come to 
her; and his heart, burdened with regrets for his hasty 


GLADYS 


173 


action in leaving his family, yearned for the solace of his 
daughter’s love. He could never in this world atone to 
his deserted wife for the wrong done and the suffering 
caused her, but he would use the wealth with which Provi- 
dence had favored him in doing good to his child and 
the needy ones who had been kind to her and her mother 
in the days of their adversity. 

Another scheme he had in view, of which it may be said 
in anticipation that it was fully carried out. That was, to 
set aside a considerable sum of money, the interest from 
which should go to the alleviation of the wants of the 
worthy poor of his old neighborhood ; and he would make 
his daughter the almoner for the distribution of these ben- 
efits. Another sum was to be placed in her hands, in trust, 
for the support of preachers of the Gospel who should 
labor in Northwest Arkansas, and the interest accruing 
from this sum was to be used sacredly for that purpose 
alone. These provisions were all entered in covenant and 
placed in bank. 

It must be understood that these provisions were not 
all completed during the stroll with his friend on this par- 
ticular occasion ; but ere a week had passed all these were 
in proper and legal shape. 

Young Corwin had, through a friend, brought his case 
before the grand jury and ordered a strong effort made 
for his own indictment for the killing of John Gates. He 
instructed his friend to inform the prosecuting attorney 
that, in the event of a bill being found against him, he 
would at once return and stand trial. Nothing came of 
this effort, for the reason that several witnesses testified 
that Gates first made the threat and the effort to shoot 


174 


GLADYS 


before Corwin attempted any demonstration. Col. Wal- 
lace Childs, a prominent attorney of Fort Smith, and a 
partner of E. C. Boudinot, was employed to call on all 
persons who were present at the dance at the time of the 
shooting and obtain a fair, friendly statement, in an in- 
formal way, of each one’s evidence. On investigation this 
attorney gave as his opinion that a conviction could not 
be had, from the fact that Corwin acted in self-defense. 

All this in no degree lessened the young man ’s regret for 
the sad affair. And he formed a resolution to devote his 
life and fortune to an uncompromising warfare against 
the drink habit in all its phases. Gates had no relatives, 
within his knowledge, to whom aid or atonement could 
be offered, so he turned his attention to the task of help- 
ing eradicate all tolerance for tippling from the church. 
To this end a draft for ten thousand dollars was forwarded 
by mail to Doctor Greydone, with instructions to use it 
according to his judgment for the purpose named. He 
knew Greydone did not belong to the church, but he had 
that confidence in his honor, honesty and integrity that 
he felt assured the trust would be faithfully discharged. 
He was ‘‘building better than he knew,” as the sequel 
will show. 

Inasmuch as Edwin Corwin now passes from any re- 
lations with our story further than this trust committed 
to Doctor Greydone, we will dismiss him with a short his- 
tory of his life from this time, and a little incident or two 
showing that his repentance for youthful follies was sin- 
cere and that the one thought of living a life, if possible, 
which would in a small way atone for the great crime re- 


GLADYS 


175 


suiting from his own drinking dominated his soul to the 
end of his earthly career. 

A few years later he married a very estimable Christian 
girl ; but before doing so he fully informed her of his own 
past history, concealing nothing. These two lived to- 
gether happily, and were blessed with four intelligent 
children — two sons and two daughters — whom it was 
their constant and prayerful care to keep from “every 
appearance of evil. ’ ’ Attendance at church and at prayer 
meeting was never omitted or neglected, and of their 
means they, from month to month, donated liberally to 
the cause of the Master. Besides this, no hungry soul ever 
walked from their door. And their deeds of kindness and 
help to the poor are known only to that God who, “watch- 
ing over Israel, slumbers not nor sleeps, ’ ’ and who is Him- 
self Infinite Love. 

The years ran rapidly by, and a frosty rime faded the 
auburn locks, telling that the down-hill of life lay partly 
behind them. But for long years hands and hearts had 
done the best they could to stay the overflowing tide of 
tears and bind up the sore and weary feet which beset 
their path. 

One day, as Corwin was returning from town, where 
he, had walked to make some purchases, it being only a 
few hundred yards from his home, he met a little tot of a 
girl some four years old, led by an older brother, who 
were well known to him as children of a dissipated father 
and an invalid mother. He never permitted an oppor- 
tunity to pass without giving a kind word to these child- 
ren, so he said: 

“Hello! little ones! Are you going to town?” 


176 


GLADYS 


“ ’Es,” said the little girl, who was quicker to speak 
than the boy. “See my new s’oes?” holding out a tiny 
foot. 

“ 0 ! They are nice ! Where did you buy them ? ’ ’ Cor- 
win asked, as he noticed that both children were clean 
and much better dressed than usual. 

“W’y, w’y, w’y,” said the little prattler, as she tried 
to collect her thoughts, “papa he go to p’ayer meet an’ 
hear ’oo say ’bout d ’inkin’ an’ — an’ — bad w’see, an’ come 
’ome an’ talk mama, an’ mama tiss papa, an’ papa cwy, 
an’ mama cwy an’ laff too, an’ papa wo’k for man, an’ 
man giv’ papa four, seven, leventeen dolla’s, an’ — an’ — 
an ’ papa buy dese, an ’ — an ’ — 0 yes ! he bide mama nu 
d’ess an’ buddy nu hat, an’ — an’ — an’ — 0 evey so much! 
Mista Corwin, what make papa an’ mama cwy an’ laff too? 
I cwy when I hurts, but mama say papa cwy fo’ glad. 
Papa say he d’ink no mo’ bad wissee, an’ mama laff an’ 
cwy big. Papa an’ mama goin’ church sum Sunday nex’ 
time, an’ p’eacher man put papa down, down, down in 
deep cweek, an’ mama cwy and laff mo’, I ’spec’. Won’t 
hurt papa, will it? See my nu d’ess an’ bonny? Pitty, 
ain’t da?” 

And the little tougue prattled on, as the strong man took 
her in his arms and tried to hush her with kisses. Like 
Toplady, he could only pray, ‘ ‘ Lord ! stay thine hand ; thy 
servant can bear no more ! ’ ’ for his heart was bursting for 
joy. He placed the little one on the ground, when she 
took hold of her brother’s hand and said: 

“Turn on, buddy. We doin’ to meatcher shop an’ buy 
mama beskus. [She got meat shop and butcher shop 
mixed.] When ’oo turn see my papa he buy ’oo nu s’oes 


GLADYS 


177 . 


like mine. Ain’t da pitty?” and she hopped along on one 
foot, holding out the other for his inspection, while her 
great black eyes sparkled with satisfaction. 

“God bless the darling,” he said, as tears dropped from 
his eyes. “She wants every one to be happy because she 
is. And this is the basis of all true religion. I will con- 
tinue to look after her, and her father and mother also.” 

A few days after this incident Corwin, with his wife, 
called on this family, as they had frequently done before. 
The mother met her visitors at the door with a glad look 
in her eyes, which told the story of her present happiness 
and hopefulness for the future. 

“Come in and be seated,” said she. “My husband will 
be in in a few minutes. I hope you both are well.” 

“Very well, thank you,” said Corwin. 

“How is your health today?” asked Mrs. Corwin. 

“O! I feel as if I was going to be well again,” replied 
the woman. “Come here, darling (to her little girl — the 
same one we saw going to the meatcher shop). Come and 
thank the kind lady for the nice basket of fruit she sent 
you.” 

“Sank ee for bassy nice fute,” said the little one. “Ma- 
ma eat sum an’ — an’ — laff an’ cwy adin!” 

“O! you little telltale!” laughed the mother, as she 
kissed her darling to hide her emotions. 

But the little one could not be entirely silenced, so be- 
tween her mother’s kisses she managed to say: 

“Mama tiss papa heap some, too!” 

Just then the father came in and warmly shook Cor- 
win’s hand. 


178 


GLADYS 


The visit ended, they arose to go, and Corwin said to 
the man: 

“Have you good, permanent employment now?” 

“For two or three months. Then my employer will be 
leaving the country. I will have to look around after that, 
I suppose.” 

“Well,” said Corwin, “consider yourself engaged as 
soon as you are at liberty. I need a good, careful hand, 
and my wife insists that she can’t get along without an 
occasional glimpse of little tottie here,” patting the child’s 
head. 

“0! Mr. Corwin! You know you are as foolish about 
the little angel as I am.” 

“Well! well!” said Corwin. “My wife and I always 
quarrel over these things, so we’d better go. Good-bye.” 
And they went away throwing kisses at “tottie.” 

“Mighty sweet quarreling, I should say. Good-bye. 
Call again.” And the woman snatched up “tottie” and 
covered her face with many seals of a mother’s love. 

And thus their lives passed on, and the angels, we hope 
and believe, keep tally and note till God shall reward 
every one according as he has done well or ill. 

As before stated, within a week Carrol Gordon was 
ready to start for his old home, where he hoped and 
prayed to spend the remainder of his life in serving his 
Master to the best of his ability, and in a small way repay- 
ing the friends who had so lovingly administered to the 
comfort of his deserted wife and daughter. In all the 
days of his lonely expatriation he had never ceased to love 
the mother of his darling child. He had often asked him- 
self the question, could it be possible that some evil-minded 


GLADYS 


179 


person had sought to ruin his home by circulating a false- 
hood touching the character of his wife? But the story, 
as it came to him, seemed to admit of no possibility of 
doubt; and at each re-examination of the subject he de- 
termined to work harder and send more money to the 
loved ones. But as for himself, he would remain hidden 
and unknown until called to lay down the burden of life. 
Then he would place Gladys above want and care, know- 
ing she would share all things with her mother, so long as 
that mother remained alive. 

But the time had come to return and take up the work 
of a lonely life in the field where one mistake of his had 
blighted and blasted the fair flowers of love and trust in 
a heart which could not long bear its burden and soon 
ceased forever to feel the rancoring pain of old earth’s 
cruel, biting, slandering tongue. The preparations for the 
home-going were all completed, and the “immaterial 
man,” having nothing of importance demanding his at- 
tention, resolved to accompany Gordon, and gave for an 
excuse that his real estate, which consisted of a fine plan- 
tation on the Arkansas River below Van Buren, required 
attention. The journey was completed on the Saturday 
succeeding the picnic of which we have already written, 
that being the first day of Baxter’s protracted meeting. 
Nothing worthy of note or mention transpired on the way, 
save that Carrol Gordon received from his friend and 
cousin a full history of the latter’s life from the time he 
drifted away from Kentucky after his parents’ death, as 
related by Aunt Alice. 

We will endeavor to give the salient points in this his- 
tory, so that the reader may know of the causes which 


180 


GLADYS 


gave the eccentric turn to this peculiar man’s character 
and threw him, as it seems, providentially into the position 
of protector to Gladys and her father. This recital will be 
given in our own language and style, and will be made 
brief as possible. 

The homeless boy, having no one to say him yea or nay, 
or care for his welfare in any manner, drifted from point 
to point, working for whatever wages were offered and at 
anything which presented, until he reached the Ohio 
River. Here new men and new faces were met by him ; 
also new and better opportunities for money-making came 
in his way. He spent a year as roustabout, errand boy, 
and boy of all work at different towns along the river. 
Being naturally shrewd and quick to observe, he soon 
learned that those who were qualified by education and 
experience always commanded the better wages and oc- 
cupied the higher positions. He further learned that hon- 
esty, integrity, and fidelity to trust always brought a pre- 
mium amongst business men. This, coupled with the 
teachings of his mother, who was a good, pure woman, and 
which teachings in his heart, from his deep love of her, 
determined him that, come what might, he would never 
betray a trust or take that which was not rightly his own ; 
and so far as possible he would neglect no opportunity 
to acquire that knowledge which seemed' to him to give 
to others so great advantage. Following out these ideas, 
he availed himself of every occasion for attending night 
schools, reading good books, by chance thrown in his way, 
and taking advice of those who condescended to give it. 
Thus he progressed in wisdom and morals, slowly it is 
true, but surely for all that, until he was twenty years old, 


GLADYS 


181 


when, at that time, he had saved up in cash a little over 
two hundred dollars and found himself in the State of 
Mississippi. It was then that he resolved to supplement 
the early and scant education acquired in boyhood days 
with a term in an academy. Consulting a minister of the 
Gospel, under whose preaching he had confessed the Sav- 
ior and by whom he was baptized, he chose the school at 
Fayetteville, Arkansas, then under charge of the schol- 
arly Robert Graham. This school had a deservedly excel- 
lent reputation throughout the Southern States. Closing 
one term here he secured a position as dry goods salesman 
in a store at Yan Buren at a good salary. The failure of 
his employer decided him to teach in the country for 
awhile. This avocation he followed for two years, and 
then invested his savings in a small farm on the Arkansas 
River. Securing an agent to manage this, with instruc- 
tions to invest the proceeds in land adjoining, he drifted 
to Fort Smith. Here he again secured employment as 
salesman, and became acquainted with the widow of Gen- 
eral Bonneville, at one time commandant of the post at 
that point. This lady became his strong friend, and 
through her influence he was admitted to the social circles 
and firesides of the elite of the city. 

At one of the society functions of that day he met a 
beautiful and highly educated young lady, who at once 
carried off the ardent young man’s heart. He immediately 
entered suit for the lady’s affections, and fortune so fav- 
ored the proceeding that in the course of a few months an 
engagement was the result. He was making money, and 
not being at all inclined to dissipation, his bank account 
was attaining to respectable proportions on the credit side 


182 


GLADYS 


of the ledger. On Lord’s Day he was a regular attendant 
at church and was conscientiously striving to live a Christ- 
ian life. A man of a strong conviction and clear judgment, 
he could not look with favor on many social customs which 
passed uncondemned, even by ministers, in the fashionable 
world. One of these most reprehensible customs, as he 
viewed them, was that of setting wine before guests at din- 
ings and teas. He held himself so far bound by the amen- 
ities of life that he did not brusquely jar any company 
where he was housed as a guest, but with proper and quiet 
excuse the wine cup was always declined. 

It so happened that he and a few select friends were 
taking tea with a very wealthy and estimable lady, a mem- 
ber of the church, where also was his fiancee and several 
of her young lady friends. Wine was served, and, as 
usual, he, gracefully as possible, declined. His lady love, 
probably being in a somewhat domineering humor, said 
to him: 

4 ‘If you do not pledge me in a glass, our friendship is 
at an end.” 

The tone of her voice startled him, and on looking into 
her eyes he saw the flash of one cup too much reflected in 
their unwonted sparkle. 

“That friendship must be weak indeed, which could be 
broken by so trivial a cause,” replied he. 

“Where is the merit of being so puritanic? Pledge, for 
friendship ’s sake, ’ ’ plead a friend, who saw the imminence 
of a breach between them. 

“Please pardon and excuse me,” said the heroic young 
man. “These things are better if not pressed on occasions 
like this. If conscience or friendship must break, let it be 


GLADYS 


183 


the latter. It may end in this world, the former affects 
the life beyond.” 

The company soon separated, and our friend attended 
the young lady to her home. The walk was almost a silent 
one. At the door, before bidding her good-night, he asked 
if he should consider her decision at the party final. 

“As you please,” replied she haughtily. “To me it is 
immaterial.” 

“Has a change come o’er the spirit of your dream?” 

“It is immaterial,” was again her answer. 

“Will you give me your hand for a parting good-bye?” 

Coldly she extended her hand. He took it as coldly and 
retained it while he said: 

“ ‘I would not press a hand, 

Unless it pressed mine own: 

I’d rather press the cold, cold form, 

Carved out from Parian stone.’ ” 


It was evident from her demeanor that she expected him 
to relent and kiss her good-night. He read her thoughts 
by the lamplight from the hall, and as he slowly released 
her hand he quoted again: 

“ ‘I would not kiss a lip, 

Unless it kissed me, too: 

I’d rather from the leaflet sip 
The morning's clay-cold dew.’ ” 

“Good-bye, and forever!” said he sadly, as he lifted his 
hat and walked away. She turned and entered her home 
without a word. 


184 


GLADYS 


As he wended his way to his boarding house he kept 
repeating to himself her fatal words, “It is immaterial!” 
It is strange how a word or a phrase, or even the coloring 
of a thought, will entangle itself in the meshes of our 
mentality and ever after be forced to the fore and flaunted 
by the tongue on all opportunities. And so it was in this 
instance. 

It had become patent to him from observation and 
knowledge of human nature that lover, whether man or 
woman, who attempts to drive, regardless of the loved 
one ’s wishes and convictions, before marriage, will pursue 
the same tactics afterward. He had further reasoned him- 
self into the belief that husbands, when spoiled at all, 
were generally spoiled in one of two ways. Thus, the wife 
who constantly anticipates every wish of her husband, and 
spends all of her time in waiting on, patting and petting 
him, will learn, sooner or later, that she has, in so doing, 
made herself a bond slave and him a tyrant ; and she who 
takes the coachman’s seat in life’s chariot, grasping whip 
and rein, driving her husband at her own whimsical pleas- 
ure, willy nilly, she will ere long have driven every atom 
of manhood from out his being, leaving him a cipher in the 
home enumeration or second fiddle in the song of life. He 
had seen good, strong men thus ruined, who sat on the back 
seat, fearful of creating a scene by saying a word, while 
the wife astonished the world by talking to friends and 
neighbors of “my business, my family, my home, my bank 
stock,” etc., etc., etc. In the homes where the husbands 
had been ruined in either of the above ways, the children 
were generally overbearing and domineering towards each 
other and their associates. It very frequently happened, 


IT IS I M M ATER I AL M — page 183. 









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GLADYS 


185 


as he observed, that where the husband lorded it over the 
wife, or the wife over the husband, the one thus brow- 
beaten would seek away from home that “surcease of sor- 
row” not found where Christian love and trust should 
have been the divinities. Thus the husband sought the 
tippling shops and card tables, and — 0 too frequently! — 
stealthy feminine feet trod the dark paths that led towards 
that house whose “footsteps take hold on hell!” 

He would none of it. If his home could not be one of 
mutual love and trust and confidence, he would, for the 
balance of his life, follow in the footsteps of the fabled 
Hebrew wanderer and rest no more until the chill of death 
should forever still his restless soul and the white angel 
write for his epitaph, ‘ ‘ Silentia ! ’ ’ 

He had thus far kept watch over his only sister, who 
was widowed by the death of her husband, the father of 
John Gates, whose tragic end is told of in a former chap- 
ter. To her he gave a life lease on a good tract of land 
sufficient for her support. It may be said in this connec- 
tion that this sister died a few years later, and the pro- 
visions of the lease being entailed, the son was brought 
up and educated in the common schools by one Gentry, 
trustee. He had also kept informed of his second cousin, 
Carrol Gordon, but as he seemed capable of caring for 
himself he had been left to his own resources. 

On the day succeeding the aforementioned tea party our 
friend informed his employer that he would, at the close 
of the month, some ten days off, quit his service, as he de- 
sired to try his fortune out west. The gentleman much 
regretted this, for he had formed a very high estimate of 
the young man and duly appreciated the worth of his 


186 


GLADYS 


labors. Would an increase in the salary change his reso- 
lution ? 

“No! no! My wages are sufficient for the work done,” 
was the reply. 

‘ ‘ I hope, ’ ’ said the merchant, ‘ ‘ there is no dissatisfaction 
personally. ’ ’ 

“Certainly not. No one could be more kind than you 
have been to me.” 

“Would you mind telling me the cause of this sudden 
resolution? I ask as a friend and through no idle curi- 
osity. ’ ’ 

“ 0 ! it is immaterial ! ’ ’ 

He stopped short, with a confused expression on his fea- 
tures. He had made use of the very phrase his affianced 
had used at their parting. Then he continued : 

‘ ‘ I admit, sir, that my plans have, rather suddenly, been 
changed. But permit me to assure you that you are in 
no wise responsible for it. I shall ever entertain for you 
the highest esteem. Let me ask that this assurance will 
suffice. I regret to leave your service, but it must be.” 

“I will not importune you further,” said the merchant. 
“My best wishes will ever be with you. Tomorrow you 
will find a letter of recommendation and a check for the 
amount due you on your desk. If you ever need a friend, 
or aid in any way, command me, if I am alive. ’ ’ 

“I thank you, sir. And these kind words are very com- 
forting.” 

Our friend now purchased a horse, saddle and bridle 
from an acquaintance, who, he learned, wished to dispose 
of such property at a bargain. He had not met his whilom 
ladylove since the parting already related, and the time 


GLADYS 


187 


was up for the leaving. Was it worth while to see her? 
He thought not. It would only add to the regret he felt 
already by finding his broken idol naught but clay. 

He had made the acquaintance of a three-fourths blood 
Cherokee Indian, a grandson of George Gist, Indian name 
Sequoya, the inventor of the Cherokee alphabet, and a 
relative of David Smith of Leviathan horse fame. This 
young Indian lived twenty miles from Fort Smith, and had 
often invited his white friend to visit him. So the first 
night out on the road was spent with this red man. Indian 
hospitality was not lacking, and the red friend, who 
was well educated, pressed for a longer stay. But, like 
the wounded deer, our now wanderer wished to hide from 
all familiar forms, vainly hoping to find solace in solitude 
and forgetfulness 


“ — amid the solemn gloom 
That shades the hermit’s cell.” 

Buying a pack pony and all necessaries for camp life, 
far out into the wilds of New Mexico he threaded his 
way until a territory was reached which promised an 
abundance of game. Here he selected a place in a gorge 
where one might hold hundreds at bay for months if suf- 
ficiently provisioned. Having brought with him a blade 
for cutting grass for horse feed, an axe, hatchet, fire-arms 
and plenty of ammunition, besides several steel traps, he 
proceeded to make preparations for winter, the time being 
July. 

Not wishing to be tedious in this narrative, we say that 
the following spring found him with a quantity of furs 


188 


GLADYS 


and peltries, which, on being patiently transported to trad- 
ing points and shipped, netted him several hundred dol- 
lars. By an act of kindness to an Indian boy who had been 
severely wounded in a contest with a panther, he had se- 
cured the good will and lasting friendship of these simple 
sons of the forest, and thus his position was made one of 
comparative safety. He visited the tribe and made its 
chief a present of a beautiful ivory-handled pistol, with 
a large supply of ammunition for the same. This act knit 
the bonds of friendship still stronger and secured for him 
the promise of aid in transporting his merchandise ; and 
the promise was faithfully kept. Thus, for four years, he 
pursued the “even tenor of his way,” and was rewarded 
with large profits. 

Tiring of this mode of life, he rode to Santa Fe. Here 
he disposed of his horses and other personal belongings 
and secured conveyance to a station on the Overland Mail 
Route, then just in operation. Taking stage, his next rest 
was at San Francisco. 

Hearing good reports from Australian gold fields, he 
embarked on shipboard, and a successful voyage landed 
him at Sidney. Going from this city to the mines, he 
selected a claim, worked it for three months at a profit of 
ten thousand dollars, and sold it to a syndicate for forty 
thousand. 

Restless and never resting, he bought bills of credit on 
London and shipped for England. The American Civil 
War being on, he concluded to tramp the continent. In 
this way, and by taking rail and ship for long distances, 
he saw much of France, Germany, Italy, Switzerland, and 
even Palestine. Returning to London, he reshipped for 


GLADYS 


189 


Australia. Here he ventured in the sheep and wool busi- 
ness until 1870, with enormous profits. Selling his ranch 
and stock, he returned to San Francisco. Still restless and 
never resting, he traveled all over Mexico and Texas, 
stopping occasionally for a week or more at points, as 
fancy held him. There was no necessity with him for 
business or labor. Always ready with a willing service 
and a liberal hand, many blessings followed his wandering 
footsteps, and many weary hearts poured out prayers to 
the Giver of All Good for his protection and welfare. 
When any one, wishing to remember him, asked for his 
name and place of residence, with a view of returning a 
favor or acknowledging a kindness, the invariable answer 
would come, “It is immaterial!” and with the old startled 
expression of features he would walk away. He always 
avoided prominent hotels, knowing registration was al- 
ways required at such. Just how he managed in taking 
ship he never told; but it would have put a shrewd de- 
tective to his wit’s end to have followed him. Yet he kept 
in a diary a complete record of all his movements, and in 
another book a concise statement of all bank transactions 
and other business matters. And so he wandered for two 
or three years longer, occasionally visiting Santa Fe, as if 
to take a new start, and wander again. 

Finally, on one of his visits to his banker in this town, 
he noticed a man exchanging some gold dust for cash. 
Something about the miner seemed familiar, and he placed 
himself in a position to obtain a good view of his face. As 
the man turned fairly towards him, he recognized the 
features of Carrol Gordon, although many long years had 
passed since their last meeting. Our wanderer’s mind 


190 


GLADYS 


rapidly passed from an aimless, hopeless desire to merely 
kill time to an overweening wish to talk to his kinsman; 
yet at the same time he clung to the resolve to remain him- 
self unknown. Owing to a much greater ability for re- 
membering faces than Gordon had, this was easy enough. 
A word to his banker and his merchant friend, and he 
secured an introduction to his kinsman, under the title of 
the Wanderer. Pseudonyms of this character were com- 
mon all over the West, and created no surprise, suspicion 
or comment. This acquaintance ran along pleasant lines, 
until the Wanderer had satisfied himself that Gordon had, 
from some cause, deserted home and friends, and he re- 
solved to investigate the affair. Gordon broached the sub- 
ject of a partnership, but his friend excused himself with 
the statement that he did not wish for any increase in his 
means, and, further, that he had some business in the 
states which would soon command his attention. Gordon 
enquired when he would make this journey, stating as a 
reason for the enquiry, that he wished to send some funds 
to Arkansas to a person in whose welfare he was inter- 
ested. 

“I will start about the first of June, and will be pleased 
to serve you in any way possible,” said the friend. It was 
then the last days of March. 

“I will have all things ready,” remarked Gordon. 

Matters rocked along, and the “Immaterial” Wanderer 
soon became convinced of the Spaniard’s designs on Gor- 
don’s wealth, and so, the conversation as heretofore re- 
lated passed at the time the five hundred dollars were 
placed in his hands. The Wanderer, it is true, succeeded 
in concealing his identity from Gordon for some time. But 


GLADYS 


191 


as the two grew more intimate, an inkling of the truth was 
impressed on the latter’s mind, and this conviction was 
expressed, as related, during the interview when the Wan- 
derer received the money. 

As the history of all our friends, except Pemberton and 
Corwin, now coalesce, we take up the thread of our story 
where it was dropped some pages back. But before so 
doing, it is proper to state that our Wandering friend had 
on two occasions, on the streets at Fort Smith, passed his 
former ladylove ; and at each time, as he thought how dif- 
ferent her and his lives would have run had she been 
grounded in that personal trust on the Man of Sorrows, 
which smoothes all irregularities of the human soul and 
sweetens all emotions of the human heart, his spirit cried 
out in that threnody which is a wailing echo of despair: 

“Of all sad words of tongue or pen, 

The saddest are, ‘It might have been.’ ” 


And still, with all the pain and anguish and lonely suf- 
fering of what seemed to him a purposeless, profitless life, 
that doggedness of faith which made old Job exclaim, 
“Though He slay me, will I trust Him,” ruled his heart 
and life and gave consolation in the most trying hours of 
his pilgrimage. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


And an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be 
called. The way of holiness; the unclean shall not pass over it; 
but it shall be for those: the wayfaring men, though fools, 
shall not err therein. 

— Isaiah 35:8. 


Protracted meetings were frequent in the Northwest 
Arkansas for many years after the Civil War closed. It is 
true that at the more central points of population regular 
assemblages were held on every Lord’s Day, at which 
times the primitive custom of the early church was prac- 
ticed, in the commemoration of the Lord’s death, by par- 
taking of the bread and wine. But in the country, be- 
cause of the lack of some one to lead, monthly meetings 
were as frequent as the “scattered and peeled” ones who 
survived the great conflict could keep up with any regu- 
larity. But whenever an evangelist could be induced to 
“hold a meeting,” the whole country, for miles around, 
would attend; and each Sunday, on such occasions, was 
spent at the place of service, usually a schoolhouse, and 
sometimes a shady grove, where, under the trees, “God’s 
first temples,” spiritual and physical refreshments were 
furnished with a liberal hand. 


GLADYS 


193 


Elder Kirk Baxter was an ideal evangelist. His kindly 
familiarity, tempered with an easy dignity, made him 
loved and respected, alike by the saint and the sinner, the 
young and the old; while the little children gathered to 
him as a large hearted, warm, trustworthy friend. 

Mr. Baxter well understood the rural mind. Those 
public speakers who cater to the esthetic taste of the 
urban audience, more frequently than otherwise fail to 
interest the common man, from the fact that this common 
man is usually possessed of more good, sound, common 
sense than his city cousin gives him credit for. And it 
very often happens that in the preacher’s attempt to get 
down, as he supposes, to the comprehension of his country 
hearers, he stoops so low that he renders himself ridicu- 
lous. As a backwoods huntsman would express it, he 
draws such a fine bead that he undershoots, and gets no 
game. Another preacher, just fresh from college, with 
large slugs of theological ammunition to waste, fires 
charge after charge of major and minor premises, syllo- 
gisms, speculations on the whenceness of the what, and 
other unnamable and unknowable missiles into the air, far 
above the mental targets of his hearers, closes his evan- 
gelistic work and seeks other fields, leaving behind him 
but one impression as a reminder of his efforts to convert 
the world — the impression that he, the preacher, is a pro- 
foundly educated fool ! If it is true that such evangelists 
as these have been called and sent to preach the simple 
story of God ’s love to a sinful world, then we say, and say 
it reverently, that time has greatly weakened the judg- 
ment of the caller since the Apostles were commissioned 


194 


GLADYS 


to tell dying man of the death, burial and resurrection of 
God’s only begotten Son. 

The esoteric has no place in practical Christianity; and 
that is the only kind of Christianity the Infinitely Wise 
One has vouchsafed to man. This, in its purity, feeds alike 
the king on his throne and the beggar by the wayside. It 
brightens and happifies the eye and soul of youth, while 
it binds up and anoints the harrowed hearts of the aged 
and desolate. The old Mosaic service had its court of the 
Gentiles, its holy place, and its Holy of Holies. These 
constituted the type of God’s plan of redemption. From 
the outer court the priests entered the Holy Place. So, 
we are made priests of God by entering the church of 
Jesus Christ by the laws of regeneration and rebirth. The 
High Priest entered the Holy of Holies once a year for the 
atonement of the sins of his people. So, Christ entered 
the Holy of Holies, Heaven, by way of the laws of death, 
once for all. All the priests, Christians, know all of the 
service and will of God known to every other priest. There 
is no secret or preferment to one more than to another. 
The scheme is a perfect Christocratic democracy. When 
will errant man learn that he cannot make laws for the 
government of Christ’s kingdom, and that he must not 
lord it over God’s heritage? 

Elder Baxter’s services commenced on Saturday night 
at the school house, a very commodious building a quarter 
of a mile from Linwood Best. An audience respectable in 
numbers was in attendance, and it was understood by the 
people that on the next day, Sunday, the customary basket 
meeting would be held, and a morning and afternoon ser- 
mon would be delivered. 


GLADYS 


195 


Before starting for church in the morning Daphne in- 
formed the preacher that she and Gladys would confess 
the Savior and demand baptism at the close of the second 
sermon. Mr. Baxter had in his mental constitution quite 
a modicum of timidity, not of convictions as to truth, for 
in this regard he was courageous and bold ; but he needed 
the encouragement that friends and good prospects for 
success always give. Hence, the information above named 
greatly strengthened and cheered him, and he felt that 
elasticity and elevation of spirits which such assurance 
always imparts to the humble, conscientious servant of 
God at the beginning of a protracted meeting. 

The morning’s sermon was a happy effort to state the 
basic principles of man’s duty to God, and its correlative, 
his obligations as an exemplar to his neighbor. In clear, 
plain, forcible, logical language the audience was told that 
the highest position man could take was unquestioning 
obedience to heaven’s law as laid down by Jesus and his 
chosen Apostles; that all ideas of perfecting or adding 
honor to the cause of the Master by any human act must 
be utterly eliminated from the soul before acceptable ser- 
vice could be rendered to God. Any amendments to the 
law of the Lord, which David said “was perfect, convert- 
ing the soul,” rendered imperfect that obedience to the 
“law of liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free from 
the law of sin and death,” and all these attempted emen- 
dations, additions and supplements only served to again 
entangle us in the yoke of bondage, from which the Son 
had come to liberate us. 

God’s pleasure was to command. He commanded in in- 
finite love. Man ’s duty was to obey. He must obey with 


196 


GLADYS 


unquestioning trust. No idea of bending divine commands 
to fit supposed conditions, or meet conjectured expedi- 
ences, was to be entertained for a moment. The plain, 
unvarnished, unwarped, unwrested word of Jehovah must 
be the end of all doubt and questioning as to method and 
time to him who would make his calling and election sure. 
As to whether a man could be saved who rendered a con- 
scientious, but erring, obedience to God, the preacher 
could not say. He had his private opinion, but that opin- 
ion was worth no more in heaven’s councils than the 
breath consumed in the expression of it. The only ques- 
tion man was privileged to ask when seeking salvation 
was, “What must I do to be saved?” The answer was 
written in the living, eternal, all comprehending words of 
inspiration, “Repent and be baptized for the remission of 
sins.” Shall erring mortal question, stand in doubt and 
indecision, when Infinite Perfection demands obedience ? 
And 0 ! when the Son of the Maker of Stars and Worlds 
says, “If you will Hake my yoke upon you and learn of 
me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you shall find 
rest unto your souls,’ ” who can hesitate with quibbling 
questionings whether some other way may not be just as 
good, and a little more convenient, and a little less bur- 
densome as a yoke to be perpetually worn, and a little 
more pleasing to my worldly associates, whom I do not 
wish to cast entirely aside? 

At the close of the sermon a song of invitation was sung 
and Daphne and Gladys confessed their faith in Jesus and 
asked for baptism that afternoon. 

The best of attention was given to, and much interest 
manifested in, the sermon. The table was now spread, and 


GLAD VS 


197 


the emblems, showing forth the Lord’s death, were par- 
taken of. Everything passed off in decency and good 
order, a simple hymn was sung, and the congregation was 
dismissed for dinner. The usual buzz of greetings among 
friends, conversation and handshaking occupied the time 
while all were passing to the tables where the repast was 
to be served. All were invited, as enough and to spare 
had been provided. Two tents were erected some fifty paces 
apart — one above and one below the point selected for 
the baptizings, which point was within one hundred yards 
of the house w T here the services were held. One of these 
was for the use of the sisters in preparing the candidates 
for their burial with Christ, and the other for a like ser- 
vice of the brethren. The improvised baptistry was a 
beautiful pool of clear, sparkling water, fed by a noble 
spring which gushed from a hill twenty-five or thirty 
paces from the house on the opposite side, from whence it 
described a semicircle, amongst ferns, columbines, blue 
bells, lady slippers and others of the “beauteous sister- 
hood, ’ ’ all shaded by elm, oak, hard maple, ironwood and 
different native forest trees. Among the boughs of these 
stately sentinels warbled the robin, the thrush, the car- 
dinal, the scarlet tanager, while that inimitable, yet ever 
imitating, amicus curio, the mocking bird, played punch- 
inillo to all tribes of feathered songsters. Strong, black 
shapes fell on the green carpeted earth as silhouettes of 
fantastic sprites, whose dreamy homes were anchored high 
in the umbra of an autumn glory. It was, indeed, a fitting 
place for man to offer himself “as a living sacrifice ’ ’ in ex- 
change for the peace of a better life. 


198 


GLADYS 


The afternoon discourse was an outpouring of the 
preacher’s soul in an impassioned appeal for his hearers 
to change their methods of thought and conform their 
lives to that pure standard set as a gem of priceless value 
in that divine wonder of the ages, “The Sermon on the 
Mount.” As a motive to lead them into that highway- 
over which no unclean thing could pass, he exalted the 
infinite love and mercy of a kind heavenly Father, whose 
pitying hand gave to a sin-sore world a sinless Son to die, 
that by his stripes it might be healed. No speculations on 
cold, remorseless lexotheism could comfort the soul when 
the death angel fanned the pallid cheek with his chilling 
wing like the melting assurances of the Christ of God, 
who said, “In my Father’s house are many mansions: If 
it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a 
place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, 
I will come again and receive you unto myself ; that where 
I am, there ye may be also.” 

During the singing of the invitation song eleven came 
forward and told the Elder they wished to quit the ways 
of the world, with all its allurements, and devote the re- 
maining years of their lives to the service of God. 

The audience was informed that baptism would be ad- 
ministed to those who had confessed Jesus, and all re- 
paired to the brook. 

Daphne told Mr. Baxter to proceed, and not wait for 
herself and Gladys ; that they would be baptized last, and 
would be promptly on time, when the last candidate be- 
fore them was served. 

These burials, symbolizing the burial of the Savior, and 
in which penitent believers put on Christ as a robe of 


GLADYS 


199 


righteousness, by the gibes and sneers of self-important, 
bigoted, ignorant, wonld-be rulers of God’s Kingdom, have 
suffered in their sad beauty and glory the odium which 
attaches to a nonessential, individually elective, shallow, 
disagreeable ceremony. But the hearty, God-trusting 
cheerfulness of the Elder soon dispelled all feelings of this 
nature, and there fell on all present the deep and holy im- 
pression that human beings had heard the voice of Him 
who spoke at the baptism of Jesus, and were bowing in 
reverential obedience to His divine mandate. 

As the last candidate was led from the water, previous 
to the baptism of Daphne and Gladys, these two walked 
from the tent, attended by Aunt Alice and several of their 
lady friends. Their appearance was the signal for a breeze 
of whispered admiration, which shook the crowd from 
circumference to center. As they walked to the water, 
Doctor Greydone stepped to Elder Baxter and said in 
clear, distinct tones: 

“Brother Baxter, is there anything to hinder me from 
being baptized?” 

“Certainly not, if you believe with all your heart that 
Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God,” replied the startled 
preacher. 

“I do believe and trust Him with all my heart,” said 
Greydone, solemnly and fervently. 

The administrator then led him down into the beauti- 
ful. clear stream and laid him beneath its wave, and when 
led up out of the water as a new-born son of God, he said, 
with a thrill of joy in each word : 


200 


GLADYS 


“Thank God! By His mercy I have broken forever all 
bonds of doubt and distrust which have so long kept me 
from a loving, reasonable service in His holy nameT 

Daphne and Gladys were dressed for the occasion, by 
kind and willing hands, exactly alike. Each wore a gown 
of mohair, so simply designed as to appear almost severe, 
and in color immaculately white. In the hair, front and 
side, were a few orange blossoms, while each held a small 
bouquet of pure white lilies. 

Daphne seemed supremely happy, while Gladys’ great 
brown eyes, from their liquid depths, looked unutterable 
love on her companion and friend. They had requested 
to enter and leave the water together. Amid the prayers 
of a glorified ecstacy they walked down to a voluntary 
death to sin and a bridal resurrection to a new life. 

Doctor Greydone had taken a position which would 
place him to the right of the ladies as they came out of 
the water. A young gentleman friend of his was standing 
a little to his right. Both wore the conventional Prince 
Albert suit of black, white tie and patent-leather shoes. 
As the ladies returned to the brink of the stream they 
halted. Doctor Greydone stepped into the shallow water 
behind Elder Baxter, who was supporting Daphne, and, as 
a matter of necessity, was, by the halt, thrown one step 
to the front. This placed the Doctor by the right of the 
lady, who was, in turn, on the right of Gladys. The 
preacher, being partly turned to the left, now further 
faced Miss Daphne and her companion to ascertain the 
occasion for the halt, and thus at a glance caught the 
Doctor’s smiling eyes and the lady’s blushing cheeks. He 
was amazed — dumb — something was wrong ! As we have 


GLADYS 


201 


said, he was a timid man in certain ways, and any con- 
tretemps on these holy occasions undid him. 

“ Everything is all right, Brother Baxter,” said the 
Doctor. “Miss Daphne and I merely wish you to marry 
us!” 

Had the lightning’s bright bolt clove earth and sky, 
none in that large congregation would have been more 
surprised. 

The Doctor’s friend handed the Elder a slip of paper, 
which proved to be a marriage license from the proper 
authority, duly signed and sealed. This brought the 
preacher back to earth, and he said in a broken voice : 

“Well! well! well! May God bless you, my dear child- 
ren! Please join your right hands.” 

A moment’s waiting, and he continued: 

“If there be objections to the marriage of Thorwald 
Greydone and Daphne Baymond, let them now be made 
known or ever hereafter held in silence.” 

Another moment’s waiting. 

“Do you plight in holy matrimony, each to love and 
cherish the other, in sickness, in health, in poverty, and in 
wealth, so long as you shall live on the earth?” 

Both answered, “We do!” 

“In the presence of a loving Father and these witnesses 
I pronounce you man and wife.” 

Raising both his hands over the couple, he said slowly, 
low, but distinctly: 

“0 thou everlasting Father, whose trusting children 
we are, keep these who have so sweetly and lovingly 
plisrhted their troth, first to Thy Son, then to each other, 
with all other of thy dear children, from the pitfalls of 


202 


GLADYS 


sin and temptation nntil death shall give us all an entrance 
into an everlasting home with Thee in heaven. We pray 
for this in the name of Jesus, Thy Son. Amen.” 

No heartier response was ever uttered than that which 
followed these words. Aunt Alice was absolutely over- 
come. She must give expression to her joy. Clasping her 
hands and raising her streaming eyes to heaven, she ex- 
claimed : 

“Married to Jesus an’ married to each other! Bless de 
Lawd, O my soul! An’ all dat is in me bless His holy 
name! Come to de tent, homes! I mus’ hab a good look 
at ye!” 

Uncle Watt was standing at the outskirts of the audi- 
ence while all this excitement was passing. He and a col- 
ored friend were viewing the scene with intense interest, 
when the latter remarked : 

“Uncle Watt! Dat ol’ ’oman o’ yourn am ’spressin’ 
herse’f quite ’lum’ously (voluminously) !” 

“Dat ol’ ’oman o’ mine got a right to splanify her- 
se’f on dis ’casion,” replied Uncle Watt. “She bin mighty 
exercised ’bout dem two chicks, an’ she lub ’em mightiful, 
I ’spec’. Umhum! She good ’oman fo’ all she hard on 
dis ol’ nigga ’bout cussin’ an’ takin’ a leetle sperits when 
he feel bad, an’ dat putty offen sumtimes. Humph! Got 
to hitch up dem hosses now.” 

And he waddled off, feeling quite happy himself. 

On their reappearance from the tent, Daphne and 
Gladys were dressed in a duplication of their baptismal 
attire, except that the former wore the usual veil and a 
wreath of orange blooms on her brow, also each were 
gloved in white kid. 


GLADYS 


203 


Doctor Greydone and the young friend immediately met 
and conducted them to the church house, where the 
preacher and his wife, with all the congregation, pressed 
to extend congratulations. As the good wishes were being 
expressed so happily, Gladys happened to raise her eyes 
towards the door, where they rested on her father, Carrol 
Gordon, standing by the side of his ubiquitous ‘ ‘imma- 
terial’ ’ friend, quietly taking in the whole proceedings. 
With a glad exclamation of joy, and crying, “0 papa! 
papa! Here is my papa!” in a moment she was in her 
father’s arms, laughing and sobbing alternately, as the 
friends crowded around her. 

This was another glad surprise for the eventful day, 
and explanations showed that Mr. Gordon and his friend 
had ridden to the outskirts of the grounds, where they 
quietly fastened their horses during the preparations for 
the baptisms, and as the people gathered at the water, 
under intense interest, it was an easy thing to do, to take 
a position unobserved and view the beautiful rites and 
at the close witness the remarkable marriage ceremony. 

Time was now calling for expedition. Conveyances were 
hurriedly driven up, and with overflowing hearts the audi- 
ence separated for their different homes. Doctor Grey- 
done, his wife, and Gladys gave the latter’s father and 
his friend an invitation, which would admit of no refusal, 
to make Linwood their home, at least until other arrange- 
ments more to their minds could be completed; and their 
hospitality was accepted, the more readily for the reason 
that Mr. Gordon wished to be with his daughter all the 
time possible preceding her departure for school. Und§r 
these circumstances it was a light-hearted, happy company 


204 


GLADYS 


which drove out on the road to Linwood that memorable 
Lord’s Day afternoon. 

The young gentleman who had attended Doctor Grey- 
don at the marriage, as related, gallantly insisted that 
Gladys’ father should ride by her side in the Doctor’s 
carriage, and he, like the cavalier he was, mounted Mr. 
Gordon’s horse, and rode with the “immaterial” wan- 
derer, laughingly assuring the young lady that as a cav- 
alry escort he would protect her from all Spaniards, or 
the whole Latin race, as to that matter, during their drive 
to Linwood, where he hoped to collect pay for his services 
in a good supper. She assured him that in consequence of 
his perilous duties in her behalf, the commissariat should 
be taxed to its utmost for his especial benefit. 

The drive to Linwood was quickly done. Teams were 
fed, supper eaten, and preparations rapidly made to re- 
turn to church. 

The meeting held over the second Lord’s Day, with 
more than one hundred additions to the church. Elders 
and deacons were chosen, and the little congregation 
started on its way of righteousness in brotherly love 
and fellowship. Brother Baxter left for his home, very 
substantially remembered by the congregation. He prom- 
ised to visit them again, should his life be spared till a 
desirable time. 

The patient reader now has the secret hinted at some 
chapters back, and which was, for a wonder of wonders, 
“kept tenable in the silence” of the .two principal actors 
until the denouement, as here related. 


CHAPTER XV. 


So that, watching that face, you would scarce pause to guess 
The years which its calm, careworn lines might express, 
Feeling only what suffering with these must have passed 
To have perfected there so much sweetness at last. 

— Owen Meredith, “Lucille.” 

Carrol Gordon very cautiously and discreetly ap- 
proached Daphne, with the intent of ascertaining her 
views respecting the disposal of Linwood Rest. He learned, 
after several diplomatic interviews, that if he would pledge 
his word, and promise to keep the place as a home during 
his life, she would part with it. He then frankly informed 
her that if he purchased, he wished the title to rest in his 
daughter Gladys. This was entirely satisfactory, and the 
conveyance was made with a warranty to Gladys Gordon. 

Our “ immaterial” friend, during the week of his stay 
at Linwood Rest, gave a short history of his life, with the 
information that his name was Mandeville Gordon. Aunt 
Alice, when the bar of secrecy was removed, also related 
all she knew of his boyhood days. She possessed that rare 
qualification for keeping the secrets of others, whenever 
she believed her silence was by them desirable, and of this 
she was assured by the reticence of this strange man. 


206 


GLADYS 


Doctor Greydone and Daphne now proposed to accom- 
pany Gladys to her school at Lexington, Kentucky. This 
tour would be a very pleasant one for Daphne, from the 
fact that she would, during her visit, renew many old and 
valued acquaintances. Mr. Mandeville Gordon assured 
them that he would look after things generally, and with 
his cousin Carrol see that everything was kept in proper 
condition to welcome the Doctor and his bonnie bride on 
their return home. 

The only drop of bitterness in Gladys’ full cup, barring 
sad memories of her mother, was the parting from her 
father, whom, notwithstanding his unthoughtful estrange- 
ment from his home, she idolized because of his unwaver- 
ing kindness to her and that mother, with only this one 
mournful exception. He assured her, and this reconciled 
her somewhat, that as soon as Doctor Greydone and Daph- 
ne returned, he would visit her, and repeat these visits as 
frequently as would be advisable, in view of her college 
duties. 

The Doctor had informed her father of all that had 
passed between himself and Charles Pemberton, and also 
of the results of the inquiries concerning that young man’s 
character and standing. 

The day came for the departure for school, and Gladys, 
cheerfully as she could, bade her father good-bye, not 
omitting a heartfelt farewell to Aunt Alice and Uncle 
Watt. She could not refrain a parting shot at the latter, 
even while the tears stood in her eyes. 

“ Uncle Watt,” she said, 1 1 don’t let any one shake the 
balance of your brains out! That is my job, and I will 
attend to it when I come back.” 


GLADYS 


207 


“Humph!” growled the old fellow. “Better min’, gal, 
or I fo’ sho’ ’splain to dat chap what dun tuk ye f’um de 
Spanisher dat he soon hab no brains any mo’ ef yo’ got 
holt ob him! Yah! yah!” 

Mandeville Gordon closed his business in New Mexico, 
making his deposits in Fort Smith, Van Buren and Fay- 
etteville, with a large sum in Little Rock. His theory was, 
that while as a general rule banks were safe and bankers 
were honest, yet as exceptions there were failures of one, 
and dishonest individuals among the others, and it was 
good policy to lessen temptation and divide responsibil- 
ities, so that in case of disaster he might not lose all. 

In arranging his affairs thus, it was necessary for him 
to visit these cities frequently, and as he had determined 
to give up his nomadic habits and adopt a systematic 
course of helpful work in the interest of those found 
worthy, no place seemed to offer that peaceful field of 
pleasant exertion in this chosen line so well as the one 
where his two friends, Carrol Gordon and Doctor Grey- 
done, were spending their lives. 

His old friends and associates in Fort Smith, many of 
whom still lived there, remembered him well, and gladly 
extended to him a warm welcome in business and social 
relations. Other friendships — new, but just as true and 
valued as the old — were formed, and sweet promises of a 
cheerful close to a life softened and mellowed by sorrow 
and trial painted the evening of years with bright tints, 
which gladdened his heart. 

He instructed a friend, who also was an attorney, Col. 
William Wallace, to purchase for him any valuable lands 
or city property which might be sold under foreclosure at 


208 


GLADYS 


a bargain, and draw on him for any sums of cash needed 
in the transactions. In this way he readily became the 
owner of quite an amount of realty in and around the city. 
At one of these forced sales the agent bought a beau- 
tiful plot of ground lying on Garrison Avenue, whose 
owner, Miss Imogene Burke, as surety for her father, was 
compelled to let sell under execution. Mr. Burke, with 
the hope of increasing his assets, borrowed beyond his 
ability to repay, and when the crisis of 1873 came he found 
himself bankrupt. But previous to his embarrassment he 
had given his daughter five thousand dollars, which she 
had invested in this property, and with money inherited 
from her mother, who died in 1860, she had built a beau- 
tiful home, in which she and her father lived in compara- 
tive ease. In an evil hour, in order to aid her father, she 
had endorsed for him, and the continued stringency of the 
financial conditions brought failure to realize on invest- 
ments, and so her home was forced to sale. She was then 
thirty-eight years old and unmarried. Just how it was 
that she was single at that age no one could tell. There 
were vague memories, like filmy clouds, among the older 
citizens, of an estrangement and broken vows, but no one 
knew of their truth or falsity, and none dared enquire 
after them, for Miss Burke was very reticent on the sub- 
ject of her past life. She had become very much attached 
to Mrs. Mary Wallace, the attorney’s wife, and to her she 
had said that the sale of her home was the breaking of the 
last link that bound her to earth. Her father had died 
two years previous. His health, ambition and energy had 
vanished on his failure, and he sank, without a struggle, 
into the silence of death. For several years she had been 


GLADYS 


209 


able to keep along, in a way, by teaching and music, for 
her accomplishments were of no mean order. And while, 
in her youth, she had been carefree and wildly joyful, for 
years some canker, “like a worm i’ the bud,” had blighted 
the roses on her cheeks and painted the paleness of the 
lilies where they bloomed. But with the fading of the 
hues of life ’s springtime, there had come under the benign 
influence of the Sun of Righteousness, a larger and deeper 
realization of the great duties of Christian womanhood, 
and many a wayward foot was placed in the path of virtue 
and many a bleeding, broken heart given to rejoicing and 
peace along life ’s rugged road. And with all the deep fur- 
rows torn in her soul by the hard plowshare of sorrow, she 
appeared at times to walk in a glory as bright and pure 
as the light that beams from an angel’s eye. 

Her friend, Mrs. William Wallace, was just one of those 
women whose beauty of soul kept one forever repeating, 
when with her or thinking of her, the words of Mrs. 
Sigourney : 

“Remember thee! Remember thee! While flows the purple tide, 
I’ll keep thy precepts in my heart, thy pattern for my guide; 
And, when life’s little journey ends, and light forsakes my eye, 
Come, hovering o’er my bed of pain, and teach me how to die.” 

Receiving a first-class education, she made many friends 
amongst the literati of her own and other states. She 
was married to Col. Wallace in the City of St. Louis, Mis- 
souri, and, with her devoted husband, saw, on their bridal 
tour, the principal cities of Europe. 

Returning to Chicago, a year or more was spent by her 
husband in business there, in which time a considerable 


210 


GLADYS 


sum of money was added to his bank account. But, being 
a graduate of Yale’s law school, he decided to locate in 
Fort Smith and practice the legal profession there. They 
were never blessed with children, and so Mrs. Wallace’s 
life flowed out like a vast river to other people’s children 
and other people, until the impress of her pure life colored 
the lives of thousands, rich and poor alike. 

Imogene Burke, as before related, in the loneliness of her 
life, had turned to this friend as the scorched pilgrim turns 
aside from his beaten path to the cool fountain where the 
waters flow as a gift of God for thirsty way-faring souls. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Wallace,” said Miss Burke. “I 
have come to consult you on a little business matter, if it 
will not take too much of your time.” 

“Certainly not, dear. Come in, and while I always de- 
pend on Mr. Wallace in affairs of business, I will help you 
all I can. But would it not be better if he was consulted, 
rather than me?” 

“0 no! I could not bear to go to him. Men do not 
understand, you know. And then he is the attorney for 
the person, whoever he is, whom I wish to deal with. I 
want to talk to you. You have always been so kind to 
me that I can trust you with anything, even my heart’s 
dearest secrets.” 

“Thank you, dear, for your confidence. Now, how can 
I aid you?” 

Miss Burke then told her friend of the loss of her home, 
and her wish, if it could be possibly so arranged, to re- 
purchase the residence. This she believed she could do in 
two or three years, if that time could be given. She had 
a few hundred dollars saved, and in two years would re- 


GLADYS 


211 


ceive from the estate of a deceased uncle one thousand 
dollars. Beside this, she would earn a little more money 
by teaching. 

“Well,” said Mrs. Wallace, “let us go to the office and 
see Mr. Wallace. I know he will do all he can for you. 
I do not know for whom he bought the property. But, 
come now. It is a lovely afternoon. Cheer up, and let us 
hope for the best.” 

And as they walked down town to the office, she chatted 
on in her cheerful way until Miss Burke really felt a faint 
hope that the home, so dear to her, might be saved. 

When they entered the office, Colonel Wallace was in the 
consultation room, and they took seats. Presently he 
came in, and, after a few words of greeting, asked what 
service he could have the pleasure of rendering his es- 
teemed clients, who had done him the honor of calling. 

“0! You need not show such prominent signs of hav- 
ing kissed the Blarney Stone,” said Mrs. Wallace. “We 
have really come on business. ’ ’ And she proceeded to state 
her friend’s case. 

The attorney followed the recital with close attention, 
and when the good wife had finished, he said: 

“Why, my dear! Things seem to be in a fortunate way 
for your friend. The gentleman for whom I purchased 
the property is at this moment in the consultation room. 
He is here inspecting my deals for him; and, as he is 
every way a worthy man, I doubt not Miss Burke ’s wishes 
will receive favorable attention. Shall we go in and con- 
sult him ? I think that course advisable. Miss Burke can 
plead her own case much more effectively than could any 
lawyer.” 


212 


GLADYS 


They arose and walked to the room. As they entered, 
the gentleman was standing at the window, absorbed in 
his own reveries. The attorney’s voice recalled him to 
earthly affairs. 

“Mrs. Wallace, permit me to introduce my client, Mr. 
Gordon.” 

A low bow of acknowledgement by the man was fol- 
lowed with: 

“Miss Burke, permit me the same privilege. Mr. Gor- 
don, Miss Burke.” 

0 thou head of Medusa ! Thine art is put to shame ! 
Night and Hesperides may boast of thee no more ! Souls 
turned to stone exceed thy work. Where is some arch- 
angelic son of Zeus and Danai whose tempered and tried 
spiritual sickle shall slay this Gorgon of fate which has 
petrified these two beings with the memory of a lost love ? 

Miss Burke sank down, murmuring: 

“Why is my soul to be wrung like this?” 

And a great sob seemed to burst her heart. 

Mandeville Gordon came to her side, and said in a husky 
voice : 

“Miss Burke, it appears that destiny has played us 
cruelly. But let us be of good courage and faithful to 
ourselves. ‘All things work together for good to them 
that love Him.’ ” 

Turning to the attorney he said : 

“Will you call a carriage and take her to your home? 
I will send a physician.” And he walked rapidly to the 
door. 

“No! no!” whispered the lady to Mrs. Wallace. “I 
want no physician but you.” 


GLADYS 


213 


But she was too late. He was gone. 

The carriage conveyed her and Mrs. Wallace away, and 
the attorney sat, trying to divine what craven bird of 
ill omen had 


“Cast its shadow on the floor” 

for these two suffering souls to walk in. Mr. Gordon re- 
turned in a few minutes. Taking a chair, he said: 

“Colonel Wallace, I think it due your wife and yourself 
that I should give my version of the primary cause which 
led to the sad scene in your office today. ” 

He then, in as concise a manner as possible, related the 
main incidents of his acquaintance with Miss Burke — their 
engagement, the break in their regard for each other, and 
his subsequent wanderings. When this was done, he asked 
the attorney what occasioned her visit to the office, and 
what was the motive for the meeting in the consultation 
room. 

His attorney then briefly informed him of Miss Burke’s 
straightened circumstances and her heart’s wish to save 
her home from the hands of strangers. Gordon listened 
patiently, and when the story was told, he said, earnestly 
and slowly: 

“My mind is made up as to the course I shall pursue in 
this matter. Draw up a warranty to Miss Burke for the 
property — all of it. Place the price at five thousand dol- 
lars, with full receipt for the same. I will not die with 
the burden of the thought on my soul that I had caused 
anyone, much less her, to wander homeless through so cold 
a world as this. It seems that my evil angel has ordered 


214 


GLADYS 


that I shall take up the thread of my changing life again. 
So be it. Perhaps it is for the best. Give Miss Burke my 
kindest wishes for her welfare.” 

His voice failed, and a tear, telling of heartache un- 
known to others, fell to the floor. Colonel Wallace was 
much moved, and said: 

“Mr. Gordon, perhaps she will not accept this at your 
hands. While she is one of the best women I ever met, 
she is very proud.” 

“She cannot help herself, if the deed is recorded. Be- 
sides, you can tell her that she is at perfect liberty to dis- 
pose of the property in any way desirable.” 

A messenger arrived with a note to the attorney from 
Mrs. Wallace, asking for an interview with Mr. Gordon, 
and saying that Miss Burke was able to be up ; and if an 
interview this evening would not be convenient, tomorrow 
would answer. 

“What shall I say to my wife in reply to this?” As he 
spoke he handed Gordon the note. 

“I certainly could not refuse so light a request.” 

“Shall I send for her now?” asked the lawyer. 

“As well now as any other time.” 

The messenger was dispatched for the lady, and the 
attorney proceeded to write the deed spoken of. While 
he was thus engaged, Gordon sat with his face hidden in 
his hands. As soon as the indenture was finished a notary 
was summoned, and the acknowledgement taken. 

Mrs. Wallace came in, having first ordered her coach- 
man to call within an hour. Gordon arose as she entered 
the office, and when she was seated he addressed her in 
his usual calm, dignified manner. 


GLADYS 


215 


“Mrs. Wallace, I have fully informed your husband of 
my relations with Miss Burke ; also of my intentions re- 
specting the course I shall pursue in the future. If any- 
thing beyond this is required, I am now at your service. 
But let me assure you that my feelings towards the lady 
are of the kindliest nature. I am peculiar, I suppose, ” 
with a sad smile, “in this — that I cannot control these 
feelings if I would, and would not if I could. The only 
regret which has ever harrowed me is for my inability to 
place the guerdon of happiness on the brow of merit. 
Whatever may have been our mistakes in the past I am 
sure Miss Burke deserves more of pleasure and less of 
pain than seems to have fallen to her lot. I shall do what 
I can, with the purest of motives, to smooth her pathway, 
and hope that you and she will accept what I do in the 
same spirit that prompts the small service. Let me say 
one word more. I believe I divine something of what you 
desire to say in this interview. I wish to forestall any 
thought of obligation on the lady’s part from any act of 
mine. I am beyond any conception of reward or punish- 
ment. As the minor emotions die along life’s path, the 
Christian’s soul widens its charity until all humanity is 
one brotherhood, and man’s duty becomes supremely his 
brother’s happiness. I, by faith and prayer, have reached 
this point. Now, madam, I hope I have lessened for you 
the work you so kindly come to do for your friend.” 

“I thank you in Miss Burke’s name for your kindness,” 
replied Mrs. Wallace. “I have known her for some time, 
and can say without reservation that a purer Christian 
heart never throbbed in human breast than that which 
beats in hers. Womanlike, her weary soul, in this revival 


216 


GLADYS 


of a sad memory, turned to me for consolation. She, with- 
out a thought of exposing to public view the holy of holies 
of her poor wrecked heart, has told me of her unthought- 
ful folly on that sad night when you bade her good-bye 
long years ago. And in her justification, and for your 
satisfaction, let me say that she knows and fully appre- 
ciates the fact that her folly was only exceeded by your 
manly devotion to Christian integrity ; and since that ever- 
regretted hour her life has been a freewill offering to God 
for the good of others, without hope of reward. One week 
after you left she gave herself to the cause of the Master, 
and her life, since that time, has been one of unspotted 
purity and lovely devotion, marred only by a fadeless re- 
gret for having cast so dark a shadow over yours. She 
did not commission me to say all this, but I have taken the 
responsibility to do so, hoping thereby to soften the hard 
lines which sin always lays for its victims. But she does 
wish you to know of her regrets and her great desire for 
your happiness, and, further, of her intention to so live 
that by her influence no human soul shall ever be tempted 
to wander from the path of sobriety and right doing.” 

“I am glad you have told me all this,” said he. “Do 
you think she will be willing to accept her home as a gift ? 
Really, I bought it purely on speculation, and now, know- 
ing what I do, and having determined to discontinue these 
real estate ventures, I can well afford to do this, for my 
investments have been very satisfactory.” 

“I do not think she would accept it. She is very proud.” 

“I know,” he mused; “but this is not charity. It is 
simply a voucher of kindly wishes — and a memento of 


GLADYS 


217 


other days.” This last was spoken very slowly and sadly, 
and reminded one of a teardrop on a withered rose. 

“She only wishes a chance to redeem her home, and I 
think would refuse the gift. Perhaps if you could see her 
you could better adjust this,” suggested Mrs. Wallace. 

“Would she grant me a few moments? I believe I could 
arrange it to her satisfaction. She need not fear any ob- 
trusion of unpleasant subjects, if she consents. My propo- 
sitions shall be confined strictly to business.” 

“I will ascertain, and inform you in twenty minutes.” 

“Thank you.” 

The coachman waited at the curbstone, and she was 
rapidly driven home. 

Soon a note was handed to Gordon, saying that the in- 
terview would be granted. She had said to Mrs. Wallace 
that it was better to end the matter at once, and if she 
could only save her dear old home, whatever of ill life 
had in store for her she would, with God’s help, bear it 
uncomplainingly. 

Miss Burke was far from being calm as she contem- 
plated the meeting with Mandeville Gordon. Her friend 
had striven to cheer her up and reassure her; but how 
much she wished it was all over ! She had no dream of a 
complete reconciliation. Indeed, her whole intent was to 
pass this trying ordeal in such a manner as to recover the 
friendship and esteem of the only man she ever loved and 
who yet held in her heart of hearts the throne seat of an 
undying devotion. 0 ! she had wept rivers of bitter tears 
over a wayward challenge to him to do wrong. She knew 
it all when too late. Then she was so thoughtless, but her 
loving Father above had 


218 


GLADYS 


“Gathered the chain that was broken in twain, 

And fastened it firm to the skies." 

And so she had “ passed under the rod.” 

When Gordon arrived he was conducted to the parlor 
by Mrs. Wallace, who, after a few commonplace court- 
esies, left him alone with the woman whose smile, in years 
agone, wakened his heart to holy dreams of a grander life 
than usually falls to the lot of earthly mortals. 

When Mrs. Wallace heard Gordon say good-bye, and saw 
him pass out, she went to the parlor and found Miss Burke 
watching his retreating form from the window. 

“Well, my dear, did you succeed?” 

Her friend ’s voice startled her to consciousness and Im- 
ogene sprang to her feet. She held out her hands in piti- 
ful supplication, and her friend was anxiously alarmed. 

“Sit down, dear, on the sofa.” said the kind-hearted 
lady, soothingly. Let me hold your poor head. I know 
it must ache dreadfully,” and taking a seat beside her 
she kissed the flushed cheek and pillowed the hot brow 
on her breast. Tears soon relieved the overtense feelings, 
and Imogene raised and looked at her friend, who, as soon 
as she caught the glad light in the tearful eyes before her, 
almost shouted for joy. 

There followed a long conversation, and when Colonel 
Wallace came home he was told some wonderful things 
by his charming wife. 

No one but the four friends ever knew what passed be- 
tween this long estranged couple. When a mutual friend 
asked the attorney about it he smilingly said: 

“Mrs. Wallace can enlighten you.” 


GLADYS 


219 


When she was approached on the subject she archly as- 
serted that “Mrs. Imogene Burke Gordon can give you 
the desired information.” 

But the mutual friend never applied to Mrs. Imogene 
Burke Gordon for the desired information. 

At the beautiful home which reared its stately form on 
the site where Imogene had lived so long, and so lonely, 
were heard the sounds of song and laughter many times, 
when friends gathered to enjoy the hospitality so lavishly 
extended to rich and poor without discrimination. But 
Mrs. Gordon never tempted her guests with that demon 
which “biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder,” 
and whose end is death to body and soul. She told Mrs. 
Wallace one day that she firmly believed that God never 
forgot those who trusted Him ; that the time might seem 
long and the way dark, but patient waiting on Him who 
doeth all things well would finally bring true happiness 
to all His children. This God-fearing woman and her de- 
voted husband, whose places at church and prayer-meeting 
were never vacant, and whose ears were never closed to 
the cries of the unfortunate and suffering ones of earth’s 
toiling children, squared their lives constantly by that 
divine injunction which, as a chart on the ocean of life, 
enabled them to avoid the rocks and shoals on which mil- 
lions of stately barques have gone down in sin and ruin. 
Would you like to know what that injunction is? It is 
here written as it was received from ‘ ‘ Him in whom there 
is no variableness or shadow of turning,” and whose word 
is as eternal as His being: “SHUN EVERY APPEAR- 
ANCE OF EVIL.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


The law of the Lord is perfect, converting 1 the soul. 

— Psalms 19:7. 

For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the 
prophecy of this book. If any man shall add unto these things, 
God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this 
book. And if any man shall take away from the words of this 
prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, 
and out of. the holy city, and from the things which are written 
in this book. 

— Revelations 22:18, 19. 

There are three forms of church government, and con- 
sequent practice, amongst Christians, each one of which 
having its polity based on a respective predicant. These 
predicants stand as to chronology and merit as follows: 
An inerrant word, an inerrant church, and an inerrant 
pontiff. To these, as a final tribunal, are submitted all 
questions of policy and practice by the votaries of each 
communal or hieratic conclave which may arise respecting 
the imperative duties and permissible acts of members and 
powers of communities. The first includes all those in all 
ages who accept the dogma that a “perfect law of lib- 
erty,” such as they believe the New Testament to be, can- 


GLADYS 


221 


not be made more perfect in its form or functions by any 
acts of human beings, either individually or collectively. 
The second binds together those who, according to Vol- 
ney ’s law of religious birth, believe as the first do, but are 
taught that the church must expound that perfect law, 
and the private members must acquiesce in her exegeses. 
The third gathers to its fold those who accept the dogma 
of the first, but hold the contention of a singular, succes- 
sive, apostolic, delegated vice-gerency, which has the di- 
vine right to change this perfect law so as to meet the ex- 
igencies of all times and all climes. 

These constituting the first class are honestly intelli- 
gent; those of the second class are honestly prejudiced; 
and the third class holds those who, while honest, are ig- 
norantly superstitious. 

It is very interesting to the student of psychology to 
trace in church history the influence of the above static 
dogmas on the evolution of sects. And it will appear very 
plain to such an one that, by accidents of cross-breeding 
in theological life, all specific changes may be accounted 
for and the tracings of the sectarial marks followed 
through all differentiating processes. 

In this way may be traced back to the parent stock 
every sect now urging its claims on a world that is pray- 
ing to be delivered from a death that never dies. And, so, 
those who, impelled by a longing inherent in their souls to 
meet the loved and lost ones, “in a clime where the leaves 
never die, ’ ’ for want of honest, prayerful, intelligent trust 
in God’s own life-giving word, spend their precious days 
in peering through theological glasses of different colors, 
constructed by fallible men who have “itching palms,” 


222 


GLADYS 


for traces of the footprints of those who have passed be- 
yond the dark river. 

‘ ‘ 0 it is pitiful ! ’ ’ when one sees his fellows closing their 
eyes to the glorious light which beams on their darkened 
vision from the great, simple, all-embracing fact of the 
resurrection of Jesus Christ. ‘‘In Him was life, and the 
life was the light of men. ’ ’ 

The will of God expressing his great love toward us and 
our obligations to him, is so plainly stated that a misunder- 
standing on any point vital to our salvation is impossible, 
if honest effort is made. 

It is only when we follow men, instead of Him, that we 
err. 

Many times it is more pleasant, and more popular, to 
worship where convivial company and surpliced priest 
lead us to heaven by way of the ball-room and card-table, 
where the odor of wine blunts the morals and exhilarates 
the sensual passions. And thus a drinking, gambling, 
dancing brotherhood, presided over by a bibulous man- 
made shepherd, conducts the unthinking, foolish, time- 
serving soul along paths which closely skirt “the haggard 
rocks of hell.” 

It may be asked, Does Protestantism lie under this in- 
dictment? Most certainly so. And simply from the fact 
that the taint of Vatican blood still flows in Protestant 
veins. Atavic laws as surely mark the progeny in theol- 
ogy as in biology. The simple religion of Jesus Christ 
knows no bachanalian festivals and revelries. But we 
have smirched the pure white raiment of the church to 
the tinge of the robes of the woman who sat on the scarlet 
colored beast, and who “was arrayed in purple and scarlet 


GLADYS 


223 


color, and decked with gold and precious stones and 
pearls having a golden cup in her hand full of abomina- 
tions and filthiness of her fornications : . . . and . . . 
drunken with the blood of the saints and with the blood 
of the martyrs of Jesus.’ ’ 

Look over the churches of Europe and America, and 
note if your eye catches the glint of the gold and the pre- 
cious stones and the pearls ; and look also for the cup filled 
with abominations and filthiness; and then look closely 
at your own church, and see if you can detect the pattern 
of her raiment and gleamings of gold, fashioned after the 
above description. Then, like the prophet Ezekiel, take 
your measuring rod of common sense and measure the 
grand cathedrals, their chapters, their prebends, their 
deans, and every and all where worship those at the dic- 
tation of him who claims to be Christ’s vicegerent, and 
measure the worship, too, and also the worshippers. Then 
take close and accurate observation of the language of 
Babylon spoken there — its phraseology and terminology. 
And now, 0 mortal man, standing in the presence of the 
awful God and his Christ, honestly and prayerfully com- 
pare these measurements and notes with the worship in 
your own church and see if the frond marks of your own 
religion are not found in a hierarchy which has blasphem- 
ously ‘ 4 added to the words of this book.” Happy may 
you be, if, instead of common sense for a measuring rod, 
you have had the courage to apply your New Testament in 
this trial as a touchstone of divine truth, and found that 
you have not received the mark of the beast within your 
forehead (intellect) or right hand (service) to your shame 
as a follower of Him who had not where to lay his head. 


224 


GLADYS 


These reflections are earnestly commended to you, the in- 
dividual reader, for your own personal application to your- 
self. 

During the Civil War the Catholic membership prac- 
ticed, as an evangelizing method, that liberty of action the 
Apostle Paul adopted by “becoming all things to all men,” 
and thereby were impressed many Protestants with a large 
estimation of, and admiration for, a charity whose pri- 
mary animus was purely a proselytism strictly on Jesuiti- 
cal lines. An attorney once said to me: “I was baptized 
by a Catholic priest when I was a child; and though now 
I am a Protestant, I can say that for that large charity I 
have constantly observed as practiced by the nuns and 
Catholic brotherhood, that church still retains a very 
warm place in my affections and esteem.” 

These propagandists were constantly in evidence at the 
front, where necessarily there was always a large field for 
labor amongst the sick and the wounded. Fort Smith, 
from this kind of work, became strongly jCatholic, and 
many estimable and conscientious Protestants, as well as 
worldly people, adopted this church as their choice because 
of her toleration of worldly pleasures and unremitting 
charity for all classes who suffered from the horrors of 
war. The impress of these conditions has been carried 
down to the present day, and largely accounts for the fa- 
cility with which many good-meaning people, especially 
the thoughtless and young, step into the Roman fold with- 
out investigation or question as to Scriptural warrant. 

Two years have gone as pebbles dropped into the ocean 
of a past eternity since Gladys Gordon and Charles Pem- 
berton took up their last courses of school life. A bright, 


GLADYS 


225 


beautiful boy had come to live in the home of Mandeville 
and Imogene Gordon. The proud parents had named him 
Greydone, and of course he had inherited the name of 
Gordon. When this young chap was about six moilths old, 
a little, wee, tiny fairy, with “eyes of the cerulean hue” 
and nut brown hair which curled like carded wool, com- 
menced her first cooing in the dove’s nest presided over 
by the Doctor and Daphne. 

So to even things up in a measure with their Fort Smith 
friends, the little trick was dubbed Imogene. In conse- 
quence of all this, there was a constant gadding between 
the dove ’s nest on the mountain and the dove ’s nest in the 
city, participated in almost exclusively by Daphne, Imo- 
gene and the two aforesaid newcomers, i. e. : the beautiful 
boy and the tiny, curly-headed fairy. Then Gladys came on 
vacation, and who should happen along, a few days after 
her arrival, but Charles Pemberton. He had no business, 
you know, but was just wandering around to kill time, 
you know; and just thought he would drop in for a day 
or two, you know, to see his old friends, Doctor and Mrs. 
Daphne Greydone, you know. Also, you know, he had 
thought a good deal about the Spaniard and the young 
lady, you know; and he wished to meet the young lady’s 
father and congratulate him on having such good friends 
as the Doctor and Mr. Mandeville Gordon. He never said 
a word about wishing to meet again Miss Gladys. But 
Miss Gladys did not pout or seem angry. She only blushed, 
and, while her eyes twinkled, she bit Master Greydone 
Gordon’s finger till he yelled like a Comanche. 

“What does that madcap mean, biting the child that 
way?” screamed Daphne. 


226 


GLADYS 


“0! Um! They are so sweet I want to eat ’em both 
up ! ” And she bit the curly-headed one till a note like 
that of the cardinal bird filled the room. 

“You cannibal!” exclaimed both the mothers in a 
breath, as they snatched their dears from the young lady, 
who ran out to see if it was going to rain. (A drive behind 
Doctor Greydone’s Leviathans had been promised her, 
with Charles I as coachman. He had lost his head, but 
not at the hands of a Cromwell!) Then there was cod- 
dling and pitying and baby talk and dire threats galore to 
“beat that nasty, bad Gladys to a poultice for bitin ’ poo’ 
’itty, witty, bitty baby finnies off!” 

Gladys’ father, Carrol Gordon, had accompanied his 
daughter on this visit to the friends in the city; hence, a 
goodly company, including Doctor Grey done and his wife, 
were guests at Mandeville Gordon’s home. The morrow 
being Lord’s Day, Mr. Charles Pemberton was invited by 
the resident minister to preach to the people. A new 
preacher, especially a nice, young, new preacher, always 
draws a large congregation. So it was in, this instance, 
and many who communed at other places of worship came 
to hear what he would say and see what he would do. 

His sermon was very plain, very simple, and very true 
to the old, old story of how man, in the early days, pleased 
his Maker by obedience to the gospel of His dear Son. No 
effort at oratory or play to the galleries characterized it ; 
and only at the close did the young minister give way to 
pathos in pleading for his hearers to lessen human misery 
by lessening human selfishness and exalting brotherly 
love. After the Lord’s death was commemorated, “they 
sang a hymn and went out.” 


GLADYS 


227 


On their way home, Mrs. Gordon walked some distance 
with a lady friend, who had attended to hear the strange 
preacher. 

'‘How is the dear baby getting along?” enquired the 
friend. 

“He is very well, thank you,” replied Imogene. 

‘ ‘ Bless his dear heart ! I must call and see him again. 
By the way, dear,” said she insinuatingly, “we have been 
hoping you would bring him to our church and have him 
christened. You know you always attended our church, 
and I believe was a member before your marriage.” 

“0! I have no church now,” said Imogene. “Your 
church used to be mine, but I have changed.” 

“It makes me sad to hear you speak so,” replied the 
friend. “We have such a nice minister now, and he does 
christen the dear little ones so sweetly. I know, if you 
could only meet him a few times and become acquainted 
with him, you would come back to our church. Only last 
Sabbath ho christened five dear little lambs, and he 
preached such a lovely sermon. At the card party last 
Thursday evening I told him we never would be willing to 
give him up. But why do you say you have no church 
now? You certainly have not gone back to the weak and 
beggarly elements of the world.” 

“ O no ! I found all the weak and beggarly elements in 
my church relationship when I was younger than I am 
now. As I said, I have no church. I belong to Christ’s 
church. Instead of going back to the world, I have been 
reading my Bible, and I hope I am on the right road that 
leads away from the world and all its allurements.” 


228 


GLADYS 


“I see. I see,” said the lady sadly. “Yon are a con- 
vert to the new-fangled doctrines that are being preached 
around everywhere. I suppose you have left forever the 
church of your dear parents, in which you were christened 
when a child, and have gone off after strange gods.” 

“My dear friend,” said Imogene kindly, “permit me to 
say with all respect, and the best of feeling, that instead 
of going after strange gods I am trying with all my heart 
and soul to follow the true God as he has directed in his 
revealed will. I have no church now, for I belong to 
Christ’s church. It is His, and I am His. He made the 
laws for His own church, and I cannot question, alter or 
amend them. It is only left to me to obey or refuse. I 
find nothing in His will respecting the christening of 
children. If He had desired such a thing of me, respecting 
my darling, He would have left it on record for my guid- 
ance. That He did not, proves that He did not wish it. 
No human being has the authority to change God’s law 
to suit his notions of expediency. Do not judge me harshly 
if I prefer to follow my divine Master rather than fallible 
man. ’ ’ 

“If you could only hear our dear minister explain these 
things,” said the lady, “I am sure you would feel as you 
did before you left us.” 

“That has been my great fault, to call it by no more 
harsh name. I listened to the minister explain, and neither 
read or thought for myself. I have changed. I read God ’s 
word, think for myself, and obey his plain commands. No 
one stands betwixt my Master and my soul. Still I know 
we need preachers. God’s plan is that they shall carry 


GLADYS 


229 


the story of the cross to a dying world. But we must 
judge them by His word. From this there is no appeal.’ ’ 

A Catholic acquaintance, who had stopped for this lady 
friend’s company the balance of the way, said to her as 
they walked on: 

“This is what comes of your heretical teachings on the 
right of private judgment in divine things. If the Protest- 
ant theory is right, Mrs. Gordon is right in practice. But 
whether that theory is right or wrong, your church is 
wrong. You have just enough of Catholic practice to 
change the written word, but you do it entirely without 
authority. The Holy Father at Rome, only, has the power 
to change the ordinances of the church. Protestant change, 
without heaven ’s warrant, is rankest blasphemy. No well 
informed Catholic contends that baptism by any other 
method than immersion is according to the primitive prac- 
tice. The Holy father changed it, because, as Christ’s 
vicegerent, he had a right to do so, and knew it was best. 
Your Protestant changes it sometimes without show of 
authority, at other times, as in the English church, which 
is Catholicism without a pontiff, by the authority of the 
church, which authority is vested in her bishops, they 
claiming a divine right by apostolic succession. The real 
fact of which is, that, if there be a shadow of a claim at’ all, 
it came through Rome. If I was not a Catholic, I would 
disclaim all ecclesiastical authority of any kind, and stand 
exactly where Mrs. Gordon stands. And if I attempted to 
defend the practices of your church, I would abandon her 
theory and be a Catholic. There is no logical middle 
ground.” 


230 


GLADYS 


“I believe you have stated the case fairly,” said the 
lady, after a few moments of deep thought. “But I can- 
not give up the dear thought that my babies were sealed 
to Christ by baptism in the church of my fathers.” 

“You have no warrant for the practice in your Bible,” 
replied the friend. 

“But my minister says there is.” 

“Then exercise your boasted right of private judgment, 
and find it for yourself. Do not be led blindly by a man 
who, according to your theory, stands no nearer to God 
than yourself. ’ ’ 

“But he is better informed than I am.” 

“If that be so, and you claim equality before God, and 
you are wrong, yours is the sin of ignorance. If your 
minister knows better, he is guilty of the sin of presumptu- 
ous fraud. If he does not know better, yours and his guilt 
is the same, and he is no better informed than you are. 
Catholic, as I am, I presume not to judge of the mercy of 
God. He may save you, but He has not told you so.” 

“This is fearful!” 

“No more fearful than true. I hope I have not angered 
you,” said the gentleman apologetically. 

“0 no! I thank you for your frankness. Won’t you 
walk in?” 

“Please excuse me. Another time I will take that pleas- 
ure. Good-bye.” 

The week was spent in a very enjoyable manner by the 
friends. An easy drive from the city, along splendid 
roads, through beautiful scenery, to Doctor Greydone’s 
home, made the trips back and forth very pleasant. 


GLADYS 


231 


Doctor Greydone and Mr. Mandeville Gordon met each 
other on the following Monday in solemn conclave, de- 
termined to hold an indignation meeting on the subject of 
wifely estrangements. After voting for each other for 
president of the convention several times, which always 
resulted in a tie, they agreed to dispense with formalities 
and proceed to business. 

A resolution was drawn up and adopted by a unan- 
imous vote (of two), declaring it to be the sense of the con- 
vention that men whose wives had “itty, bitty, ootsy, 
darly anges” for babies were a badly abused set. And 
they further resolved unanimously (vote of two) to take 
example of poor old Peter and go a fishing. The head- 
waters of White River, east and south of Fayetteville, was 
chosen as the place to which they would flee from the 
wrath that was already upon them, in consequence of their 
having declared that the father of a beautiful baby was a 
very badly treated set, all in himself ; and the more beau- 
tiful the baby the more of such a set he was, in that he 
always had to take a back seat in being waited on and 
looked after by the mother of that beautiful baby; and in 
their case the babies were so extraordinarily beautiful that 
their (the fathers’) own back set was no longer bearable. 
So there was “death in the pot,” and they (the two fath- 
ers of the two extraordinarily beautiful babies) fled a- 
fishing ! 

Mr. Pemberton received a pressing invitation from the 
resident minister of the congregation at Fayetteville to 
hold service with the brethren there the next Lord’s Day, 
so that he might be free to visit his aged parents in Il- 
linois, who very much desired again to have him with 


232 


GLADYS 


them. The young minister asked Gladys if he could have 
the pleasure of her company for this occasion. She was 
nothing loth, for, in addition to the enjoyment of a trip 
with him, she had many friends there whom she wished 
to meet during her vacation, and this would be such an 
excellent opportunity. So she would “ask papa.” “Papa” 
wished to return to Linwood to look after affairs at home, 
and he said: 

“Certainly, my darling. And I will be with you at 
church. Had you not better go right away? And, as this 
is Tuesday, you will have the balance of this week to visit 
in.” 

She kissed him, slapped his jaws, and said: 

“Thank you! You are so good!” 

Then she ran to tell Mr. Pemberton that she could go, 
and papa said for her to start right away, and visit until 
Sunday, and he would be there at church, and wouldn’t 
it be nice? and didn’t he think best to wait till morning? 
It would be so much nicer to drive in the cool of the day, 
and the dust was so bad, and she wanted to go and see 
Aunt Alice and Uncle Watt, and — . Here she looked up, 
and Pemberton was standing, laughing, with his hands 
over his ears. 

“0 you unbearable heathen!” she exclaimed, as she 
gave his arm an awful pinch, and then ran to her room. 

The fishing was excellent. Doctor Greydone was a pro- 
fessional in that line, and Mandeville Gordon was not to 
be despised. Their cook understood his role, and per- 
formed it well: so everything was all that heart (or stom- 
ach, rather) could demand. 


GLAD VS 


233 


On the third day of their outing it rained, and as sev- 
eral bass and crappie had been caught early in the morn- 
ing, they were content to lie in their tent and read the 
papers which had been received from Fayetteville the 
day before. While thus engaged, a youth came running 
to them from a nearby farm house, and as soon as he could 
speak, for he was exhausted from exertion, he informed 
them his little sister was very ill, and his mother, who was 
a widow, wanted them to come and, if possible, do some- 
thing to relieve her darling child. Catching up his medi- 
cine case, which the Doctor always kept near by and well 
filled, it was but a few minutes until the two men were at 
the bedside of the little sufferer. Doctor Greydone, from 
the history of the case and the pathological symptoms, 
was at no trouble in diagnosing intestinal congestion from 
over eating partially ripened fruit. The mother was in- 
formed of the child’s serious condition and the question- 
able results of the malady. Intensely alarmed, she asked 
if they knew the name of any minister in town who would 
come and pray for her child. To pacify her, the son was 
sent back to camp, with instructions to the man who drove 
the camp wagon, to bring the buggy and team at once to 
the house. While this was being done, the Doctor was 
taxing his skill to save the child, if possible. 

When the buggy arrived the driver was dispatched to 
Fayetteville, with orders to bring Mr. Pemberton to them 
quickly as possible. The horses were fresh and in good 
condition, and the trip could be made in four hours, as the 
distance to and fro would only be thirty miles. 

Whatever theory may be advanced in the effort to ac- 
count for the introduction of evil into the world, the hu- 


234 


GLADYS 


man heart rebels in its own consciousness, when under the 
agony of facts, against the injustice of unmerited, invol- 
untary suffering. No casuist, however subtle his philos- 
ophy, has ever been able to make the truly intelligent 
parents thank God that the features of their loved one, 
which had been so often covered with affection ’s holy kiss, 
were drawn and distorted by the remorseless processes of 
physical pain; and that sin and its consequences are but 
segments of that great asymptotic figure in morals which 
constantly approaches perfection’s curve, but never 
reaches it, has not, in a single instance, been proven to the 
mother, bending over the deathbed of her darling, suffici- 
ently plain to calm her bursting heart or dry her scalding 
tears. The soul still cries out, and will cry out, against 
death until 


“The majesty of darkness shall 
Receive the parting ghost” 

of Campbell’s Last Man, who 

“Shall creation’s death behold, 
As Adam saw her prime.” 


Neither the dogma of Theodore Parker, that “every fall 
is a fall upwards,” or the compensation theories of Ralph 
Waldo Emerson, have ever 

“Soothed a widow’s woe 
Or wiped an orphan’s tear,” 


since humanity first sobbed out its grief as a penalty for 
disobedience to divine law. Immeasurably above all these, 


GLADYS 


235 


and their kith and kin, whether formulated by an athe- 
istic Darwin or a pseudo-theist John Fiske, stands that 
perfect and all-consoling divine panacea for the sickness 
of sin, “God so loved the world that he gave his only be- 
gotten son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not 
perish, but should have everlasting life;” and its human 
sequence, “We love Him because He first loved us.” 

The rain had ceased to fall, and the clouds were break- 
ing away, by the time Pemberton arrived. Doctor Grey- 
done believed he could discern a mitigation of the alarm- 
ing symptoms in his little patient, and so informed the 
mother at the moment the minister drove up. But she 
had lost hope and would not be comforted. When Pem- 
berton came in she met him and told him, as well as she 
could for her grief, that her little dear had never been 
baptized; that they had left England a year before she 
was born and had not been located near a priest of her 
church since. The father dying when the child was only 
one month old, and their isolation from spiritual advisors, 
coupled with many wanderings and misfortunes in sparse- 
ly settled counties, looking for a new home, had caused 
her to neglect this important duty to her child, and now 
she feared (and this was uttered with a great sob) that 
it was too late. The young man, hoping to defer matters 
and comfort the sorrowing woman, called for a Bible, in- 
tending to read to her of the Savior’s love for the dear 
little ones and thus cheer her in her sadness. She went to 
a trunk which stood in the room, and returned with a 
beautiful little book in her hand, which she gave to him, 
saying : 


236 


GLADYS 


“We had a Bible, but as we did not read it much I gave 
it to the dear baby to play with, and she tore it up. But 
here is our old prayer book, which has been in the family 
for over a hundred years, and we have always relied on it 
for comfort and consolation in our afflictions. We always 
tried to read the prayers on holy days and Sabbaths, even 
if press of affairs caused us to neglect those of other 
times. ” 

She had opened the book at the “Visitation of the 
Sick,” and he mechanically took it from her hand. 

Doctor Greydone came from the bedside to where they 
were standing, and informed the mother that her little 
daughter would live. He had recognized a decided change 
for the better. This information relieved Mr. Pemberton 
from a very trying situation, for the lady immediately 
went off into an ecstacy of hysterical thankfulness. While 
she was thus so happily employed, the preacher, for want 
of something else to do, examined the little book. It was 
the “Book of Common Prayer. For the Church of Eng- 
land. Printed by Alexander Kincaid. His Majesty’s 
Printer. Edinburgh, MDCCLXX. ’ ’ 

Evidently she was an Episcopalian, and had entrusted 
her soul’s salvation to her priest rather than to “Him 
who is able to save to the uttermost : ’ ’ and her prayer book, 
almost a copy of Rome’s Liturgy, had taken the place of 
God’s Holy Word in her reverence and affections, and thus 
the mark of the beast was in her forehead, even if she had 
been idle in the days of her wanderings. 

At the mother’s instance the doctor and minister re- 
mained with the child through the night, and watched 
with trained and vigilant eyes the rapid return of the ill 


GLADYS 


237 


one from the danger line. When the morning light broke, 
she was so far recovered as to be able to take some light 
nourishment and recognize the mother, brothers and sis- 
ters. 

The mother had saved some money and proffered pay 
for the services which had been so kindly given in her 
extremity. She was told that there was no charge made ; 
but Mr. Pemberton asked permission to send her a bible, 
and told her that he would mark some passages for her 
consideration, if she would give him a solemn promise to 
prayerfully read them. This the good woman cheerfully 
did; the more so, because of her gratitude for the kind- 
ness and care shown her child. 

As the time was well nigh consumed which the anglers 
had allotted themselves, preparations were made for re- 
turning, and by noon camp was broken and they were all 
on the road. 

Pemberton’s promise to send the book was fulfilled as 
soon as possible, and the gift was accompanied with a 
prayer that it might “ accomplish that whereunto” it was 
sent. 

A good congregation gathered at the church on Sunday 
and appeared well pleased with the efforts of the young 
Bethany student to exhort his hearers to a more conse- 
crated life of brotherly love and charity and earnest labor 
in leading men and women to a higher and better plane 
of moral action. 

On Monday he and Gladys rode to Linwood with the lat- 
ter’s father, where arrangements were made for him to 
accompany her as far as Lexington on his way to Bethany. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


Were truth our uttered language, angels might talk with men. 
And God-illuminated, earth should see the Golden Age again; 
The burdened heart should soar in mirth, like morn's young 
prophet lark, 

And mercy’s last wept tear on earth, quench hell’s last cunning 
spark. 

For this world is full of beauty, as other worlds above, 

And if we did our duty, it might be full of love. 

— Gerald Massey. 


Our old earth, hoar with the winters of six thousand 
years, has again doubled her circuit of five hundred and 
sixty odd millions of miles, and we are twenty-six luna- 
tions in advance of the incidents recorded in the last 
chapter. 

The two years just closed were not years of idleness or 
selfish pleasure with our friends. 

Doctor Greydone’s strong character, further beautified 
and softened by the admirable qualities of his willing and 
cheerful wife, was working wonders amongst the neigh- 
bors for miles around. Mandeville Gordon and his ener- 
getic and now happy helpmeet had infused into all circles 
of social life a spirit of lovely self-devotion to charitable 
work, which caused many a thankful heart to bless God 


GLAD VS 


239 


for substantial aid so timely received. Carrol Gordon, in 
his quiet, if somewhat phlegmatic way, had spent his time 
in the great work laid out by Edwin Corwin for the elim- 
ination of the drink habit from the territory adjacent to 
the Indian nation. Thus, by a concentrated and unified ef- 
fort, looking to the elevation and moral and physical bet- 
terment of the poor, and the enlistment of the wealthy as 
helpers in the work, it seemed that the beginning of the 
end of vice and evil doing had shown a rift in the dark 
clouds of immorality, which prophesied of happier and 
better days. Young and struggling preachers who were 
found worthy were sustained and aided in evangelistic 
work, and young and struggling congregations were 
strengthened and encouraged with financial aid discreetly 
placed. Surely the Lord was receiving that service of 
singleness of heart which always breaks down the strong- 
holds of sin. This work also resulted in the gathering 
together of the children, the dear, bright buds of promise 
for another and purer generation, in Sunday schools and 
prayermeetings, where, like Samuel and Timothy, they 
were taught of the Lord before sin had hardened their 
precious souls with its deadly burnings. Then, by these 
good people, there was that pastoral work performed 
where, during social calls and friendly visits, the proper 
word or helpful allusion was always dropped, in season 
and out of season, which, like the dropping of water on 
the hard stone, wore its impress for good in ways and 
times unknown and unseen by a careless and unthinking 
world. 

A change had ‘'come o’er the spirit of the dream” of 
preachers also. And they, with their usual astuteness. 


240 


GLADYS 


failed to recognize its cause. The sermons, instead of 
bristling with polemic quills, were softened with the pa- 
thos of brotherly love and right living. And God’s fath- 
erly care for frail humanity, exemplified in the death of 
Jesus Christ, formed the stirring theme which enlisted 
many souls and uplifted many veteran hearts that had 
grown cold and were only possessed of the religion of com- 
bativeness. 

The Bible, and the Bible alone, in its love and grandeur 
and glory and beauty, was held out as an all-sufficient 
guide, counsellor and judge for all classes and conditions 
of men who wished to quit sin, serve God, and thereby 
have part in that life beyond time and its environments of 
pain and evil, where all tears should be wiped away and 
there should be no more death or partings of loved ones. 

And our friends, by their quiet suggestions and whis- 
pered counsels here and there, had worked this change 
unknown and unboasted which resulted in the better way 
of winning human hearts to God. 

Occasionally, in these efforts to build up the cause of 
the Master in the waste places, an evangelist of experience 
and reputation would be employed to hold a protracted 
meeting. And these sporadic efforts would be strongly 
seconded and supported by these workers. But the great 
end and aim of their labors was to imbue the brotherhood 
with the idea that nothing contributed so much to the 
success of the Gospel as a holy life on the part of pro- 
fessors of Christianity. And they endeavored to impress, 
by precept and example, the solid conviction that long- 
drawn, cadaverous countenances were not symptomatic of 
that heart affection which impels men and women to an 


GLADYS 


241 


acceptable service of God. On the contrary, a bright, 
happy, cheerful disposition was by them believed to be 
conducive to a healthy spiritual life ; and the children were 
taught that innocent laughter and joyous sport had no 
taint of sin in them per se. Hence, at the picnics, which 
were always attended by the parents, the woods rippled 
with outbursting glee, and the hills caught the echoes of 
unrestrained gladness. Many were the poor children, with 
hunger-drawn faces, who went home from these gather- 
ings with satisfied appetites and brows from which laugh- 
ing angel lips had kissed every furrow of care. 0 this 
was a work of love and joy which cherubim might envy 
and which lightened the burdens of sorrowing hearts to 
the glory of God and the joy of angels. 

In the congregations which met for worship under this 
regime, there were no Brotherhoods of St. Andrew or 
Sisters of Charity or other papistical barnacles glued on 
to the white robe of the bride, the Lamb ’s wife, by would- 
be beautifiers and decorators of God’s perfect work. The 
plain services as indicated in the Acts of the Apostles and 
letters to the congregations and disciples, as recorded in 
the New Testament, were followed in trusting faith and 
holy desire without wandering, as a divinely revealed way- 
bill to the better land. Neither did they have in their ad- 
ministrations and services the language and characters of 
Babel, standing without divine warrant as god-fathers 
and god-mothers, holding unconscious infants before a sur- 
pliced priest, that they might receive from his presumptu- 
ous hand the mark of the beast in their foreheads. All 
things were done 1 1 according to the pattern shown ’ ’ them 
by those whom the Holy Spirit had guided "into all 


242 


GLADYS 


truth. ’ ’ Simulacrums had no emplacement in their divine 
rules of obedience. Instead of a bishop having a plurality 
of churches over which he ruled, responsive only to his 
superior, an archbishop, they had churches (congregations 
of worshipers), each of which had a plurality of bishops, 
elders, as is clearly taught in the Scriptures, and as was 
practiced by those who, under the supervision of the in- 
spired Apostles, formed their communities of saints ac- 
cording to this selfsame inerrant Word of God, which left 
none of the technique of Christ’s kingdom to the fancy of 
unholy egotism. 

During the days when these strong efforts to reestablish 
primitive Christianity were moving the people along the 
lines marked and bounded by divine inspiration, there 
came to the neighborhood of Linwood Rest a very singu- 
lar man — singular physically and mentally — whose name 
was Paul Bagby. This man’s physical singularity con- 
sisted in his diminutive bodily proportions. And doubt- 
less he had as good a natural right to the name of Paul 
as had the great Apostle to the Gentiles. His stature 
would compare favorably with an ordinary American 
youth of thirteen years. But that man’s mind! Whfcn 
one attempted to ascertain its dimensions by usual meth- 
ods, it was like viewing an elephant through a microscope. 

Mr. Bagby had been a rover by sea and by land. In 
the employ of a London missionary society for years, he 
had traversed Japan, China, Siam, and other far Eastern 
countries. Being so small physically, his strong mind, 
one would suppose, had been able to pull his body through 
the symbolic augerholes of dangerous conditions which 
would have drawn common mortals to wirelike propor- 


GLADYS 


243 


tions. This small man was a large preacher and a scholar 
of wonderful attainments. His dialectic accomplishments, 
if not his dignified port, would not have suffered side by- 
side with the erudite L. B. Wilkes of polemic fame. He 
was merely traveling about, as was his wont, and preach- 
ing a few sermons here and there where a demand for 
such seemed to exist. The good people of Linwood and 
vicinity were always possessed of willing ears and open 
hearts, and Brother Bagby, as others before him, and since, 
was given a warm welcome. 

The next Sunday, it then being Thursday, he would 
preach to the people. This happened on a time when Man- 
deville Gordon and wife were visiting with Doctor Grey- 
done and Carrol Gordon. Aunt Alice, who still made her 
home at Linwood, was always in her glory “when de pas- 
son was on han’ an’ needed de ’tention ob a ’sperienced 
pusson to look arter de cookin’ an’ de rooms, so dat de 
speeritchual state ob his min’ mout not be flambergasted 
wid de onpurtiness ob things ginerally.” 

The interim preceding the appointment for service was 
spent in social visiting by Mr. Bagby, and thus he became 
acquainted with the brothers and sisters who lived near 
by. On one of these visits he was at a house which, on 
religious affairs, was divided against itself, the father be- 
ing a Methodist, the mother a Baptist, the daughter a Pres- 
byterian, and the elder son claiming simply to be a Christ- 
ian. It happened on this same day that a Presbyterian 
and a Methodist minister, in each other’s company, were 
calling on the members of their respective flocks, and their 
visit at the above house chanced to synchronize with that 
of Mr. Paul Bagby. The host, who was a kindly, broad- 


244 


GLADYS 


minded man, and whose education had not been neglected, 
insisted that, inasmuch as his home had never before been 
so honored as to have three reverend gentlemen of the 
cloth as guests all at the same time, they would do him the 
further honor of stopping for tea, as it would delay them 
but an hour or so. Each of the “Barkises was willin’,” for 
whoever heard of a preacher refusing to partake of that 
which strengthens the “inner man?” The conversation 
became general on subjects of which clergymen most do 
talk. As the colloquy proceeded the term “reverend” was 
most freely handed back and forth by Mr. Bagby’s two 
sacerdotal friends. Finally one of the gentlemen re- 
marked to our small visitor that he believed the ministry 
of the Christian church objected to being honored with 
the distinctive appellation of “reverend,” and asked why 
this was so. 

“I cannot think of accepting that honor in my own 
case,” said Mr. Bagby. 

“Why not? Are you not a minister and also an elder 
or bishop ? ’ ’ queried the gentleman. 

“Why, I do try to preach sometimes,” replied the little 
man. “Also I have exercised the Scriptural functions of 
an overseer. But who could ever think of reverencing a 
man of my dimensions? There is nothing in my makeup 
that would command awe or reverence.” And he^ made 
an effort as if to pull himself up a foot or two higher. 

The clerical gentleman, with the host, burst into laugh- 
ter. 

“See what a figure I would cut, trying to be something 
which is impossible to my nature,” continued he. “Now, 
we reverence God, and we reverence with holy love and 


GLADYS 


245 


deep adoration His dear Son. But I fear, gentlemen, your 
clergy play a more ridiculous part, trying to appear some- 
thing they are not, and cannot be, than I would in my ef- 
fort to assume portly proportions like yourselves. Just 
think of applying the term you use in expressing your love 
for and awe of the Great Incomprehensible One to a puny 
man like myself. It looks to me, begging your pardons, 
as being blasphemously presumptive.” 

“You are severe, but we believe you are honest,” said 
the gentlemen. 

“Not so severe as I fear God would be with me should 
I arrogate to myself honors which belong only to Him and 
His Son. Again asking your pardon, I will say that your 
assertion is not sustained by the facts of history. In this, 
your ecclesiastical polity shows the earmarks of your pro- 
genitor, the Pope of Rome. For it is to him the world is 
indebted for these terms which exalt the priesthood above 
the laity. And there is not in all God’s Holy Word a scin- 
tilla of authority for the custom. Just think for a mo- 
ment of the scathing rebuke the primitive Christians 
would have received had they addressed the Apostles and 
the Elders as “The Reverend Timothy,” “The Reverend 
Barnabas,” “The Right Reverend Paul,” “The Very Rev- 
erend John,” “His Holiness Peter.” Do you recognize 
your family tree by these reflections, gentlemen?” 

“The little man has us!” laughed the Presbyterian 
elder. 

“His teeth seem long and his grip strong,” responded 
the Methodist brother. 

“I would not bite merely to give you pain,” resumed 
Mr. Bagby. “This would be no pleasure to me. But it 


246 


GLADYS 


makes me tremble to see men trying to heap sacred honors 
on each other which have no Scriptural warrant, and 
which honors belong only to the awful God.” 

They were silent, and the little man again spoke. 

“You know, gentlemen, that ‘reverend’ comes from 
the Latin ‘re’ (again) and ‘vereor’ (fear) — that is, to 
fear again. In our prayers to God we often use the de- 
claratory expression, ‘We reverence and adore thy great 
and awful name;’ that is, ‘We humbly ask to state that 
again we declare our fear of Thy Great and Holy Name.’ 
Now, when I say, ‘Reverend Mr. P.,’ do I not express the 
wish to again declare that I fear you? I certainly do not 
fear you, small as I am,” looking down at himself. “Now, 
a clergyman, according to this derivation, is to be feared 
again, i. e. : every time you address him. A dean in the 
Anglican church is a very fearful man (Very Rev.), a 
bishop is a right fearful man (Right Rev.), and an arch- 
bishop is the most to be feared of all (Most Rev.). How 
do you like the picture? Does it impress one with that 
idea of humility and meekness which should characterize 
God’s children? Shakespeare says, King Richard VIII, 
Act V, Scene 1, ‘The archbishop is the King’s hand and 
tongue,’ i. e. : First in authority under the king, and 
whose tongue expresses the king’s will, and whose hand 
enforces the same. How like Rome this sounds ! 

“One thing more: ‘Bishop’ (Anglo-Saxon, ‘Biscop’) 
is the equivalent of the Latin ‘ episcopus, ’ which in its turn 
is equivalent to the Greek ‘episkopos,’ analyized thus: 
‘epi’ (upon) and ‘skopeo’ (look at). And so we get the 
idea of those who look upon the spiritual business of the 
congregation, to see that everything is done ‘ decently and 


GLADYS 


247 


in order.’ But these overseers have no legislative powers 
and are not to be feared, adored, worshiped, or in any 
other way bowed down to by the brethren, who are equally 
priests to God with them.” 

A nice palatable cup of tea was now enjoyed, and the 
good feeling between the guests seemed increased thereby. 

When the time came for the leavetaking, one of the 
ministers said to Mr. Bagby: 

“I cannot give you the parting hand without assuring 
you that, according to the Pauline injunction, I will ‘think 
on these things’ we have spoken of.” 

The other gentleman also heartily affirmed that he had 
been deeply interested. Mr. Bagby said in reply to these 
kindly statements: 

“Brethren, may God bless you, and His truth, to the edi- 
fication of all who love Him. He has, by the death and 
resurrection of His Son, given us power to become the 
sons of God. Let us, as ministers of His Holy Word, set 
the example before the people of serving Him as sons, 
and not as would-be masters.” 

Brother Bagby ’s meeting was well attended, and he 
made many warm friends. He usually spent a week at 
such times, but now he was somewhat hurried, as he had 
an engagement at Little Rock, and, being a hard student, 
he desired a season of rest. His course for the year was a 
critical reading of the New Testament in the Syriac script, 
and this second century literature required close, careful 
attention as well as extended time. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


There are little ones glancing about in my path, 

In want of a friend and a guide. 

— Knowles Shaw. 

Our friends were all home now: Charles Pemberton 
with his parents in Illinois, and Gladys Gordon with her 
father at Linwood Rest. This young lady was rejoicing 
that her school days were over, and with her natural buoy- 
ancy of spirits she declared she was not going to, Micaw- 
ber like, wait for something to turn up, but was bent on 
making things turn to suit herself. She was out in the 
garden, up in the barn, down in the field, and, in fact, all 
over the place, in every nook and corner, before a day had 
passed. Aunt Alice declared “to grashus dat she was 
gwine to hab a heap o’ trouble keepin’ dat young tom-boy 
f’um killin’ herse’f ’fore a week pass.” Uncle Watt said, 
“Gals got no sense nohow. Anudder Spanisher cotch her 
sho’ as shootin’!” 

With all of Gladys’ snappy mentality, she had been a 
hard student, and, as Doctor Greydone had said, was no 
common woman. She had a trait of which she was scarce- 
ly conscious herself — that of rapidly getting to the founda- 
tion of the subject she studied ; and with this she also was 


GLADYS 


249 


possessed of a very retentive mind. So that it was often 
remarked of her, by professors and classmates, that a les- 
son once learned by her was never forgotten. 

With a heart ever welling up to overflowing with the 
milk of human kindness, she always had some scheme on 
hand to help some one out of a difficulty or aid some toil- 
ing soul on the road to a better life. The poorest and the 
lowest found in her the firm, patient, sympathetic friend 
who never deserted them until their feet rested on solid 
ground. Outspoken and frank, she said hard things of 
vice and immorality and never compromised with sin. Yet 
the vicious, the immoral, and the sinful loved her so far 
as they were capable of loving. Possessed of a fine, well- 
cultivated voice, she sang sweet little songs to sick and 
suffering children in the hovels and tenement houses, and 
was rewarded with the newborn longing in their stinted, 
sinful souls to be as good as the singer appeared to them 
to be. 

Her father was proud of her, and would sit and watch 
her and listen to every tone of her voice and every little 
thrill and snatch of melody that, like her feathered friends, 
the birds, she warbled, simply because her heart was so 
full of life and love and music that she could not help it. 
As Charles Dickens wrote: 

“With the glory of God about her, 

And the glory of gladness within,” 

it would seem that “the very stones would cry out if she 
held her peace.’ ’ Often as he sat there, drinking in her 
every note and motion with ear and eye, there would fall 


250 


GLADYS 


over his careworn and sorrow-marked face tears to the 
memory of the cruelly wronged one who slept so peace- 
fully in the little grave where loving hands had laid her. 

Mandeville Gordon loved her, as did also the long-sor- 
rowing, but now happy, Imogene, who as much as any 
other, from her own superior education, was qualified to 
know her worth. 

Doctor Greydone and Daphne never questioned but 
what she was an angel — at least one in the chrysalis. And 
what shall we say of Aunt Alice and Uncle Watt? We 
can only adopt their own language and affirm with a wise 
shake of the head and a wiser look: 

“Dat chil’ am sho’ gwine straight to heaben whenebber 
she dun got reddy to spread her wings, no matter what de 
debbil say an’ do!” 

When the handshakings were all over, and the visits 
from her many friends received, and the same returned, 
she began her scheming, as it had been practiced in her 
leisure hours at school. There were many little tots in the 
neighborhood, who at times were suffering from the vari- 
ous ailments incident to childhood, whose illnesses were 
cut short by her cleansing baths and good nursing. The 
physicians goodnaturedly chided her for reducing their 
bills and taking their practice away from them. No one 
was louder in these happy, laughing denunciations than 
was Doctor Greydone. This gentleman frequently af- 
firmed that there were two serious counts in his indict- 
ment against this interloper, whom every one — good, bad, 
and indifferent — was learning to love. The first and most 
serious was found under the law of self-preservation. The 
second was for starving his wife and baby, whom he said 


GLADYS 


251 


he really loved, by taking away his employment. This 
lady showed her diplomatic abilities by proposing a part- 
nership. And thus a treaty of peace was signed and rati- 
fied by the belligerents, the result of which was an alli- 
ance, offensive and defensive, against evil, by which it 
seemed the whole country was likely to be captured by 
these invaders of Satan’s dominions. The efforts of the 
ladies, it is needless to say, were aided and sustained by 
Doctor Greydone and- Carrol Gordon, in every possible 
manner, as being truly in line with their own life work. 

The huntsman talks of his dogs and gun; the farmer 
of his cattle and horses and crops ; the belle of her parties, 
balls, and conquests; the banker of his loans and per 
cents; the mother of her children; the boy of his pop-guns 
and skates; the girl of her dolls and play-houses; the 
lawyer of his clients ; the doctor of his patients ; the Christ- 
ian of — what? Of what do you talk, Christian reader? 
Take one hundred professed Christians whom you may 
meet as you walk the streets, roads, and byways of life, 
and note the trend of their thoughts as conversations may 
occur, and you will doubt one of two things : Either that 
“from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh” or 
that the heart is full of Christianity. Gladys Gordon had 
some things in her heart of which she frequently spoke, 
as the sequel will show. 

One little girl who had been sadly prostrated by a 
malarial attack, when recovering, and during one of 
Gladys’ visits, said: 

“May I come some day, when I get well, and hear you 
tell the pretty stories again?” 

“Certainly, my dear; I shall be pleased to have you.” 


252 


GLADYS 


“And may I bring Lilly Zane and her little brother? I 
just know they would like to hear about Joseph, and about 
Moses in the boat cradle, and — 0 everything ! ’ ’ 

“Yes, yes. Bring them, and I will tell them too.” 

So, about two weeks from the time of this conversation, 
they came — all three of them. But it was on a Sunday, 
and Gladys was at church. They waited a week and re- 
peated the visit, with like results. This time, though, they 
informed Aunt Alice of their desires, and in turn Gladys 
was enlightened. 

“What shall I do with these children?” said she in a 
self-questioning way. “I have told them to come, and I 
must not disappoint or deceive them. I must decide today, 
and tomorrow inform them.” 

On that afternoon she was thrown all into a flutter by 
the arrival of a hack, in which was one passenger and a 
large trunk. On the trunk was stenciled in capitals, “C. 
P., Springfield, Illinois.” And she ran into the kitchen; 
shook Uncle Watt’s brains out again; ran back to her 
room ; peeped into the mirror ; ran back to the kitchen, and 
told Uncle Watt to “run out and help carry in that 
trunk;” ran to the mirror again; brushed her hair a few 
strokes with the pin cushion; ran to the parlor to see if 
the chairs were properly placed ; back to her room again ; 
a few more strokes to her hair, this time with the curling 
iron ; then back to the parlor, where she sat down on the 
sofa, looking as demurely as a kitten which had just re- 
covered from a fit ! 

“Guess dat gal done clean gone by de side ob herse’f 
an’ loss her senses,” said Uncle Watt, as he went out to 
help with the trunk. 


GLADYS 


255 


“She am all right. Yo’ fin’ dat out bym-bye,” replied 
Aunt Alice. 

There was much talk and many congratulations be- 
tween the two students for the afternoon and evening. 
Life’s dreamy buds had, for them, commenced to bloom 
into high resolves and holy ambitions, and with sharpened 
mental sickles they were ready to commence the “gath- 
ering in of the golden sheaves” from the moral field. 
But these ambitions were in no sense Utopian. The thorns 
and the dust and the sweat and the toil were recognized 
and given due count in the problems which stood em- 
placed, by the hand of the Master, on life’s trestle-board. 
They were well aware that the Christian’s duty was no 
sinecure. They knew that eyes which erstwhile beamed 
affection, pure and fond, would often change to frozen 
fountains, whose icy glint would shimmer, cold and mean- 
ingless, on love’s broken hopes. To wear the crown, the 
cross must be borne, though it be heavy and the way steep. 

On the morrow morning Gladys was telling Pemberton 
of the three little ones coming to hear the stories told, and 
their evident disappointment at not finding her at home. 
She asked his advice as to the best course to pursue with 
them, adding that she must go that day and see them. 

“Suppose,” said he ,“that we drive over and have them 
come to church an hour before the time for worship. Tell 
them to bring other children with them. And before you 
are aware of it you will have a veritable Sunday school on 
your hands.” 

“I had thought of that,” she replied, “but I never fan- 
cied the name, Sunday school. It seems to me as if the 


254 


GLADYS 


name takes away from the disciples a function which is 
theirs by divine arrangement. ’ ’ 

“ I gather the drift of your thought/ ’ he observed. 

“We are commanded to ‘preach the gospel to every 
creature/ and this evidently warrants the practice, if it 
does not sanction the name. Why should not the congre- 
gation, urged and assisted by the elders, see to it that these 
enquiring little ones are taught of the Lord, as was Tim- 
othy. I believe every Christian is under obligations to 
instruct all who apply, by telling this old, old story. And 
neglect here largely accounts for the wayward straying of 
the young people. I see a little light/’ she was talking as if 
studying the problem to herself. “When human beings 
meet to be taught by other humans better informed than 
themselves, we have no word which so well expresses our 
idea of this body of learners as the word ‘school.’ If we 
say, as the Evangelists often said, ‘He taught them/ then 
the taught ones constituted a necessary part of the school. 
The teacher complemented this last term. So, if I say to 
a number of young people, ‘Come next Sunday, and I will 
tell you about Christ/ and they come, and I proceed to 
instruct them, then I have a school. But what kind of a 
school? And what is its proper name? Now, you talk 
some, and help me out of this. If this school is a Bible 
thing, it should have a Bible name. Why don’t you say 
something?” And she pretended anger. 

“It isn’t proper to interrupt a lady while she is speak- 
ing,” replied he. “I have been only waiting for a chance 
to make a very wise statement.” 

“Then make it, and do something unusual.” 


GLADYS 


255 


“Well, what I wish to say is, and I hope you will duly 
comprehend the wisdom of the remark: I don’t know 
what to say!” 

“The jury finds you guilty of an intolerable and very 
dull sharpness,” said she, laughing. “And your fine is, 
the establishment of Sunday schools at every available 
point, until you find a more Scriptural name for these 
catechumenical congregations. ’ ’ 

“I accept the court’s verdict, and shall commence my 
penal service next Lord’s Day by appointing you visiting 
supervisor of all the schools I shall establish.” 

“That smacks of revenge.” 

“The revenge will he sweeter still for its subject.” 

“Look out! The pincher bug has grown stronger.” 

“And sweeter!” 

“Don’t try to duplicate Samson’s riddle. You know 
his fate.” 

“I do not fear betrayal. My lot is more like Isaac’s. 
My Rebecca’s heart is too pure and good that I should 
doubt it.” 

“I do not know. It is charged that every man — and it 
must be as true of every woman — has his price. I have 
never accepted the saying as just. I believe there are 
men and women, and they are not scarce, who are beyond 
all price — whose souls are so impressed and moulded after 
the pattern of God’s sinless Son that the offer of worlds 
would not veer them a hair’s breadth from the path of 
rectitude. If I thought different, I know I would not be 
worthy of the great love and trust my many unpurchas- 
able friends have so freely given me.” 


256 


GLADYS 


As she spoke this, her eyes grew larger, and their depths 
grew deeper, and their expression more intense, until he 
could almost have fallen down at her feet in worshipful 
adoration of a soul so loving, so pure and so true to her 
womanly nature. 

He took her hands, as they sat side by side, in that arch- 
way of vineclad beauty where she and Daphne had sat 
four years agone. In low earnest tones he said to her : 

‘ ‘ Before I left you, after our first meeting, I talked with 
Doctor Greydone, he being then your guardian, and told 
him of all my thoughts and wishes toward you. And, as 
it was his desire that I should ask no promise of you until 
your education should be finished, I admitted the wisdom 
of his judgment and pledged myself to abide his time. 
This pledge I have faithfully kept, as you know, to the 
present moment. I have not spent these years of patient 
waiting without a pleasing hope that you truly loved me; 
and so hoping, I have bent the best energies of my young 
manhood to be worthy of that love. Thus engaged, my 
days were made happy by the faith that, should the kind 
Father in Heaven spare us, my soul would be made inex- 
pressibly blessed in hearing from your own sweet lips that 
I had not hoped in vain. You have already made my life 
very happy by your trustful friendship. Shall that life, 
in the years that are to come, be spent in the service of 
my Master by your side? Will you, darling, hold my 
hands and my heart to their duty, while we walk the 
future earthly way together? I need your keen, strong 
vision and unfaltering trust in God in the work of show- 
ing men and women the better way, which I have adopted 
as my life ’s vocation. I hope — yes, I know — I have a suf- 


GLADYS 


257 


ficiency of Christian manhood to do the very best my abil- 
ity will allow without your sweet help. But the path 
would be so much smoother, the burden so much lighter, 
the way so much brighter, with you at my side. Can you 
go with me, darling ?” 

She remained silent, with eyes downcast and cheeks 
glowing. Then her whole mien changed. Her face grew 
pale, and took on a spiritual enswathment indescribably 
sublime. She sat erect, but not with hauteur. Her hand 
still rested in his, and he felt the thrill of a dominant emo- 
tion from its touch which told of a soul power, silent, yet 
awful as the majesty of the motherhood of all ages. From 
this intuitive insight into the heart of the bright, beautiful 
being by his side, he did not shrink or start. Taking her 
other hand gently, he pressed them together, and said in 
tones that only a pure manhood could utter: 

‘ ‘ I know the path your denr, doubting feet are treading. 
Let me say that that man whose mother, in the fear of 
God, has been true to him from his cradle up, will never 
betray, deceive, or prove untrue to any woman, much less 
to her who, in the sight of heaven, he has vowed to love 
and cherish as his wife so long as life may last. That my 
own God-fearing mother has discharged her duty, ac- 
cording to the lights before her, to her only son, who now 
makes his maiden plea for ‘a rare and radiant ’ maiden’s 
heart, she will tell you, when opportunity offers. That 
that mother’s memory shall be a pledge for her son’s ever- 
lasting love and devotion to this ‘rare and radiant maiden’ 
I now aver. And in my heart of hearts I know, should I 
prove false to her memory, my sin would be deeper and 


258 


GLADYS 


blacker than blasphemy itself. Will you trust me now r 
darling?” 

She looked into his eyes, and he saw in hers a question 
still unanswered; for 

“O quicker far is lover’s ken 

Than the dull g-lance of common men; 

And, by strange sympathy, can spell 
The thoughts the loved one will not tell!” 

In the same low, proud, manly tones he said: 

“I know, darling! I know! But your glorious eyes 
shall never be dimmed by a tear, nor your loving heart 
stung by a pang, because of flagging zeal to cut out the 
tongue of slander from congregations wherever I have 
the moral power. I know that millions of innocent women 
have been whispered into their graves. And here I invoke 
your own dear mother’s pure and sainted spirit to look 
from her glory home and register my vows of duty and 
love to her darling daughter.” 

Her tears were falling now, and her hungry, motherless 
heart was satisfied, that with his strong, pure soul, he 
would go hand in hand to meet that mother she had 
mourned so deeply and so long. She said, sweetly and 
simply : 

“Yes, I will go with you. But 0! you must be always 
strong and kind and patient, for sometimes I am very 
weak and sorrowful.” 

For an answer he took her in his arms, and, kissing 
away her tears, said : 


GLADYS 


259 


“As I am true to my love and my darling, let heaven 
bless me ; then I shall never know sorrow or pain. ’ ’ 

His reward was a smile of such restful, seraphic sweet- 
ness that his lips must needs break its spell for very agony 
of happiness. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


The cords of love must be strong as death, 
Which hold and keep a heart; 

Not daisy-chains that snap in the breeze, 

Or break with their weight apart; 

For the pretty colors of youth’s fair morn 
Fade out from the noonday sky; 

And blushing loves in the roses born, 

Alas! with the roses die! 

But the love, that when youth’s morn is past, 
Still sweet and true survives, 

Is the faith we need to lean upon 
In the crisis of our lives: 

The love that shines in the eyes grown dim, 
In the voice that trembles, speaks; 

And sees the roses that years ago 
Withered and died in our cheeks; 

That sheds a halo around us still, 

Of soft immortal light, 

When we change youth’s golden coronal 
For a crown of silver white: 

A love for sickness and for health, 

For rapture and for tears; 

That will live for us, and bear with us, 
Through all our mortal years. 


GLADYS 


261 


And such there is; there are lovers here, 

On the brink of the grave that stand, 

Who shall cross to the hills beyond and walk 
Forever hand in hand! 

Pray, youth or maid, that your end be theirs, 

Who are joined no more to part; 

For death comes not to the living soul. 

Nor age to the loving heart. 

— Anonymous. 

There is no standard of morality, outside of Holy Writ, 
whereby we may measure the relative merits of monog- 
amy, polygamy, and hetaerism. In the last analysis, the 
science of ethics gives no aid, and the esthetic strands us 
on the dogma of majority diction. The Turk will talk as 
glowingly of the right and the beauty of the harem as 
the Saxon does of his own monogamous hearthstone. And, 
so far as the right or wrong, per se, of the question is 
concerned, it is resolved to Hobbe’s law of morals — the 
demands of desire. And this law is upheld and sustained 
by every living thing that multiplies and replenishes the 
earth, save, alone, that portion of the human race whose 
ethic sense has been touched by the beam of Bethlehem’s 
star. The elder or bishop and the deacon of the Christian 
church, as an example for the flock, were to be men of one 
wife each. Adam’s sole companion was Eve, and Christ 
had but one bride — the Church; and herein lies the law 
bounding the connubial field. The experience of ages, in 
the attempt to solve the social problem by the rule of trial 
and error, has demonstrated the wisdom of the divine pat- 
tern, and our enlightened conscience admits that there 
can be no Platonic love in the married state outside of 
monogamy. Men may rave over the polygamous prac- 


262 


GLADYS 


tices of the ancient Hebrews, and may condemn them as 
being equally degraded with pagans in permitting this 
unholy custom. Yet, for all this obliquity, there exists a 
historical fact, which to all intelligence stands a miracle 
more stupendous than any other, except the resurrection 
of the dead. This fact is, that that people rose far enough 
above their laws and customs to produce a being, in the 
hour of their communal dissolution, whose dictum alone, 
unsupported by wealth or power, is purging the world of 
the very crime complained of. It will not do to say that 
the innate moral sense, in its evolutionary processes, has 
worked this wonder. This same history affirms that no- 
where on earth where rests man’s domicile has he drawn 
the monogamous line, except where it has been preached 
and believed that the crucified Nazarene was the 'sinless 
Son of God. Take your map and look over the world. 
Blue-pencil the countries prominent for man’s devotion to 
one mother for his children. As a star of the first magni- 
tude in the moral galaxy stands our own native land, 
where chevalier and puritan hearthstones are pressed by 
Christian feet. Side by side with her are the merry homes 
of England, the firesides where the Canadian yule-log 
emits its ruddy glow, the auld Scotch kirk, vocal with the 
Psalms of David, and Erin go braugh, eternally kissing the 
Blarney Stone for the love of Kathleen. 

Still, in spite of all the advances made, and the poets’ 
and philanthropists’ Utopian dreams of a pure household 
of love and trust and devotion, there are many dark spots 
and cheerless homes where anger and tears and madness 
“sit as household gods — shapes hot from Tartarus,” to 
scorch and blacken those relations which should be 


GLADYS 


263 


bright and “pure as the beautiful snow” and warm as the 
rose-laden breath of Spring. 

And, strangely paradoxical as it may seem, these un- 
fortunate ones, who bite and quarrel almost constantly, 
persuade themselves that they love each other. They little 
realize that 

“To be wroth with one we love 
Doth work like madness in the brain,” 

and this madness, as all forms of mania do, distorts and 
warps every holy sentiment of the soul until life is but a 
horrible dream and delusion, from which, if the dreamer 
occasionally awake, he finds his marital pillow salted with 
tears. 

One often wonders why the sweetness of antenuptial 
love so rapidly turns to the bitterness of an insane repul- 
sion. The wonder need not be, if the observer takes into 
account the arts used, even by the most artless, to cover 
up the noxious weeds whidh have grown to seeding in the 
neglected garden of the heart; and the seeds of these de- 
stroyers of life’s most beautiful blooms, are often sown 
by the hand of the ignorant, ambitious, and thoughtless 
mother. If girls were taught to value themselves solely 
by the worth and estimate of an immortality of happiness, 
and that that happiness is only attainable by a character 
formed on the full dimensions of the Golden Rule, then 
would the married life be redolent of a glory and sweet- 
smelling savor to God, rivaling the 


'Gardens of Gul in her bloom.” 


264 


GLADYS 


When two persons love each other well and truly, those 
points of character which give mutual pleasure (and the 
keystone of the thought lies in the word mutual) are 
sought for, and nourished and cherished until there is, in 
reality, a seamless union of soul with soul in appreciative 
and perfect trust. But in that blind emotion, yclept love, 
now so dominant in this age, where worldly greed and 
glory reign supreme, the irritating plaster of willful self- 
ishness, instead of the soothing lotion of self-sacrifice, is 
applied to every inflamed mental abrasion, and too fre- 
quently a yell of rage is the complaining protest. 

Husbands, and wives, too, are largely in evidence whose 
sole enjoyment seems to be to hackle each sore spot of 
head and heart found in their companions. And the skill 
exhibited in searching out these ailing tissues is often re- 
markable. The author of “Very Hard Cash” makes his 
heroine say: “If you wish to retain the good will of a 
woman, never remind her of anything she would wish to 
forget.” And so it is of a husband. He has his tender 
spots, and will flinch and strike back if these are irri- 
tated. Too many people in this gruesome world are en- 
dowed with an unhappy faculty of rendering every one 
with whom they come in contact miserable, or at least ill 
at ease. And this faculty is too often largely cultivated, 
to the neglect, and consequent dwarfing, of that Christian 
suavity whose fruit is the glad smiles of love and joy. 

Again: One will not have to search far and long for 
individuals who are happiest when most miserable. Like 
ghouls, these unfortunate ones munch and chew and gloat 
over any trivial seeming neglect with a gusto that brings 
to mind the jackal or hyena, and are only satisfied when 



UNCLE WATT— page 269 






























































GLADYS 


265 


filled with the dead bones from affection’s charnel house. 
Such are happy beyond expression because they have been 
able to imagine themselves miserable beyond description. 
With these, everything good and pure and peaceful is dis- 
gustingly unpalatable to their vitiated tastes, unless it is 
salted and peppered and condimented with the bitter, bit- 
ing, nauseating ingredients of a contentious and degrading 
sauce. Affection’s holy springs cannot flow and nourish 
and water the soul, that it may flower and fruit to the 
honor and glory of God, and the beautifying of the home 
circle, where these rotting processes contaminate her life- 
giving streams. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they 
shall see God.” “Charity thinketh no evil.” 

The seed that had been so patiently and so discreetly 
sown by our friends during the four years just passed had 
now increased many fold. A strong anti-drinking senti- 
ment in the churches, and even amongst non-professors, 
had taken deep root ; and the young men were fast learn- 
ing that sobriety must precede esteem in circles where 
wives were to be found. Where formerly young men could 
enter saloons, or boldly drink in public places, and still be 
acceptable guests in the best homes, there had come now 
the understanding that the thick speech, or even odorous 
breath, was a bar in the social world, as impassable as 
was the Rubicon before the plunge of Caesar. This up- 
ward trend of events was not alone visible on this line. 
The young of both sexes were fast learning the beauty of 
holiness, and, as a result, Bible reading and public wor- 
ship felt the strengthening influence. The tale-bearer, 
going up and down among God’s people, had become a 
rara avis. Bitterness and backbiting were fleeing away, 


266 


GLADYS 


and the poor and unfortunate, much more frequently than 
in days of yore, were made glad by timely almsgiving ; and 
many sinners, who had long wandered away from God, 
sang, while happy tears dropped from eyes dimmed by 
age: 


“It is well with my soul!” 

Protracted meetings throughout the country were be- 
coming quite common. Houses of worship pointed their 
spires heavenward in many places where the preacher 
had never before been heard. Songs of praise vibrated 
on the air which heretofore had only sobbed the echoes of 
curses. The country roads and byways were now trod 
by feet on Lord’s Day where guardian angels were wont 
to watch in sorrow the tramping of erring ones to the 
ball room, the card table, and the race track. 

Daphne, with the aid rendered by her husband, when 
professional business would at all permit, had been largely 
instrumental in this good work. During vacations, Gladys 
Gordon, accompanied by her father, or the young min- 
ister, Charles Pemberton, left no family unvisited, so 
far as time gave opportunity. Frequently Mandeville 
Gordon and Imogene would pay long visits to their 
friends at Linwood and Doctor Greydone’s home; and 
these visits were always made seasons of missionary 
work, where substantial, as well as spiritual aid was given 
to all who showed any disposition to, or longing for, a 
better life. By these efforts, discreetly directed, many a 
struggling farmer was placed on his feet, and many young 
girls were taken from under the influence of vice and 


GLADYS 


267 


placed in Christian homes, where holy influences led their 
stumbling steps into the highway that leads to everlasting 
life. 

The time had come, and all arrangements were com- 
pleted, for another meeting, which was to hold indefinitely 
— at least, so long as a general interest would warrant. 

Elder Baxter was the unanimous choice of the friends, 
and by correspondence a promise had been given by him 
to be present on Friday before the first Lord’s Day in 
September. The congregation had built a dozen or more 
box houses, of three rooms each, with summer kitchen at- 
tached, for the convenience of those who lived at a dis- 
tance. Besides these, there were many tents stretched, 
and temporary quarters provided for the horses belong- 
ing to any who wished to remain on the ground. Alto- 
gether it seemed as if the good old Methodist camp-meet- 
ing spirit of antebellum days had revisited “the glimpses 
of the moon” and baptized the country with a pentecostal 
outpouring of humanity that, with willing ears and open 
hearts, were anxious to hear the old, old story told by 
tongues fired by hearts in which the love of God had been 
shed abroad freely. 

The place of meeting was the same where Mr. Baxter 
had preached four years before, as told in a former chap- 
ter. A new and commodious house of worship had been 
erected on a plat of ground containing three acres, which 
was donated by a generous brother for that purpose. This 
ground included the beautiful spring and the natural pool 
used for baptisms before described. The year previous to 
the time of which we write, the ground was cleaned of 
stones and underbrush, plowed, harrowed, and sown to 


268 


GLADYS 


blue-grass. The old school house had been removed about 
three hundred yards west, to another spring, not quite so 
large as the former, but affording a plentiful supply of 
water for the school at all seasons of the year. 

The camp ground was a beautiful place. Along on each 
side of the brook formed by the spring, as it made its 
graceful curve from the south around east to the north of 
the church house, there was left untouched, except to 
remove the underbrush and decaying wood, a rod of 
ground where grew, in beautiful profusion, the many wild 
flowers so plentiful in this fairy region. On the bluff to 
the north of the pool, ferns and wild columbines and other 
beauties requiring but little foothold nodded from the face 
of the perpendicular rock and smiled their sweetest smiles 
at their own reflections in the sparkling water below. And 
0 the shades of the grandly glorious trees! We have told 
of them on a former occasion, and need not to tell it again. 
Here, in this stately, solemn grove, beautified by nature as 
only nature can beautify her own handiwork, man could, 
with glad heart, kneel and worship God, and “hear the 
hymn of heaven in every sunlit ray, and fill mountain, 
glen, wood, and dale with the bright and glorious visions 
poured from the deep home of an immortal mind. ’ ’ 

The services commenced on Friday night, under very 
favorable auspices. The attendance was all that could be 
desired, and the attention and decorum was excellent. 

Mr. Baxter was rendered efficient aid by Charles Pem- 
berton, who was possessed of a very pleasant address and 
a good delivery. He made no effort at the spellbinding 
style of oratory especially common to young preachers. 
His sermons were more conversational than rhetorical; 


GLADYS 


269 


and yet, frequently, bright gems of ideality and pathos 
would stir the souls of his hearers to their profoundest 
depths. While Mr. Baxter was a logician, Mr. Pember- 
ton was an orator. He had studied himself as thoroughly 
as he had books and other men ; and, being aware fully of 
his own powers, with that judicious self-control which 
checks all waste of energy, he touched the heart, here and 
there, with the thought necessary to rouse action as a 
sequence of conviction. His manner of telling the simple 
story was so unique, and yet so true to ordinary grooves 
of thought, that the “almost persuaded’ ’ became, some- 
times to their own astonishment, the “fully persuaded” 
ones, instantly setting forth to obtain a better home in a 
better world, “where the wicked cease from troubling, 
and the weary are at rest.” 

Aunt Alice was again in her glory, “a seein’ dat de 
preachers war ’tended to.” 

“Why, Aunt Alice!” said Gladys. “You will worry 
and w^ork yourself down, so you can’t listen to the preach- 
ing.” 

“Nebber you min’, honey. I’s got all de ’ligion I needs 
in dis worl ’. An ’ I ’specs da ’ll be mo ’ to spare dese young 
people what’s got longer to lib dan I has. An’ I ’specs 
da’ll need it.” 

“But you keep Uncle Watt trotting around, too, so he 
can’t be at church.” 

“La sakes! Jes’ look out dar in de sun! He look lak 
trottin’ now, doan he? Soun’ asleep! Wattie, honey! 
Come fotch anoder piggin o’ warter.” 

“Hump !” growled the old man, “ ’Clar to grashus, ef 
I doan move dat ol’ ’oman o’ mine right up inter de spring. 


270 


GLADYS 


Den she hab warter nuff, I ’spect. I doan git to res’ a 
minit.”- 

“La, honey! Yo’ hain’t dun gone an’ got tired ’ready, 
hab yo’? Dese men folks mighty poo’ shakes ’bout de 
house,” said she, turning to Gladys. “When yo’ dun go 
an’ gits yo’ a man, yo’ll hab to jog ’im up, sho.” 

“What is that, Aunt Alice?” asked Pemberton, who 
had come up only in time to hear the last sentence. 

“Nebber yo’ min’, honey. Yo’ go on wid yo’ preachi- 
fyin’, an’ sum dese times a gal I knows ’ll larn yo’ all ’bout 
it, or I’s mistaken.” 

“Have you picked one out for me, Aunt Alice?” 

“ ’Spect yo’ picked one anuder out yo ’selves wi’out 
any help fum me.” 

“Will you come to my wedding, Aunt Alice?” asked 
the young man. 

“Guess I’ll be dar wi’out any cumin’.” 

“You must know more than most people. When will 
it be?” quisically. 

“Preachers ort to know dar own ’fairs,” said she. 

“Sometimes they are credited with more knowledge 
than they have.” 

“Better look out! Yo’ be dun married ’fore yo’ knows 
it.” 

“Why, Aunt Alice ! They won’t marry me in my sleep, 
will they?” 

“Ef da does, de gal’ll soon woke yo’ up a slappin’ yo’ 
jaws,” laughing and looking at Gladys, who was blush- 
ing and trying by pantomine to silence her. 

“Is she a fighter?” laughing. 


GLADYS 


271 


“Ef de lighnin’ o’ dem yorbs struck yo’ wunst, yo’ be 
dun dead, an’ preachify no mo’ fo’ sho’ in dis worl’.” 
She said this with mock solemnity. 

“Then I will put up a lightning rod on my head right 
away,” said he. 

“Pshaw! She’s a harrikane, an ’ll smash it fo’ yo’ can 
bat yo’ eye. Dar she goes now, lak a whirlwin’!” 

Gladys could stand it no longer, and was hastening to 
where Daphne and Imogene were sitting in the shade of 
a large basswood watching the beatuiful boy and the curly- 
haired fairy at play on the green sward. Pemberton 
laughed heartily, then said: 

“Aunt Alice, I am glad you made such a splendid choice 
for me. I hope the young lady is willing. I must go ask 
her.” And he walked off. 

“Fool somebody, Mr. Preacher! I’se too ole fo’ yo’ 
sort,” and she chuckled audibly as Uncle Watt came up 
with more water. 

“What yo’ gigglin’ at ,ol ’ ’oman?” asked he. “Seems 
lak yo’s gwine to choke yo’se’f.” 

“Hit’s dun real funny to see yo’ perspirate so ’fusedly 
a totin’ dem little piggins o’ warter,” laughed she. 

“Humph ! Yo’s boun’ to go ’side yo’se’f, spite all I kin 
do fo’ yo’,” and he went to his former seat in the sun. 

Saturday the congregation was larger, and larger still 
on Saturday night. A temporary arbor, covered with leafy 
branches and seated with sawn timber from a near-by mill, 
was improvised, on intimation that the house would be 
inadequate to accommodate the worshippers. The pulpit 
was a rude but substantial affair, and served its purpose 
well. It became evident, early Sunday morning, that these 


272 


GLADYS 


provisions were wise; for the audience, by the Sunday 
school hour, was immense. Elder Baxter preached the 
morning sermon, and it was a masterly effort. There was 
nothing of the threnody of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khay- 
yam in the grand logic he gave to his hearers. Each word 
denunciatory of sin was the swish of a keen Damascus 
blade, wielded by a veteran hand and directed by a trained 
eye. Charity, purity, and meekness constituted the triple 
crown with which he decorated the brow of faith, and the 
Child of God was enswathed in a robe of righteousness un- 
stained by worldly pleasures and unspotted by passion’s 
unholy license. The weary, wounded soul that had been 
broken by sorrow’s burning plowshare was soothed by 
the gentle touch of mercy’s healing hand, and commended 
to rest in the everlasting arms of a pitying Father, whose 
love was higher than the heavens and broader than the 
eons of eternity were long. 

Many there were that day who said in the depths of 
contrite hearts : ‘ ‘ Let others do as they may, but for me 
and my house, we will serve the Lord.” 

As several had made the confession of faith in Jesus as 
the Son of God, and expressed the desire of their hearts 
to turn from sin and its allurements to a holy life, the 
announcement was made that the ordinance of baptism 
would be administered at two o’clock p. m. to the candi- 
dates who should be waiting to receive it. 

Just as the benediction closed, a sensation was created 
in the audience by the entrance of Charles Pemberton and 
Gladys Gordon. He was attended by two young men, 
dressed in unison with his attirement, and they entered 
at the west aisle of the arbor at the same moment that 



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GLADYS 


273 


Gladys, leaning on the arm of her father, came through 
the east aisle. She was followed by two young ladies of 
her acquaintance from Fayetteville. All eyes and ears 
were on the qui vive, for certainly something unusual was 
on the tapis. To crown all, Aunt Alice followed the ladies 
closely, dressed in her best bib and tucker, and, as Mrs. 
Fezziwig was described by Charles Dickens, so was she, 
4 ‘.one vast substantial smile,” which plainly said, “I dun 
tol ’ yo ’ so. ” 

Gladys’ dress was of white satin, the lower part of the 
skirt trimmed with illusion and bouquets of orange blos- 
soms, and the upper skirt of illusion, looped up with the 
flowers. The corsage was low, with illusion puffed on the 
neck. Angel sleeves, with sash of white satin, trimmed 
with illusion, complemented the dress; and an illusion 
veil, orange blossoms in the hair, white kid shoes and 
gloves, with silk hose to match, completed the toilet, with 
the exception of a fan, which looked as if it were the 
breath of a dream of lilies. 

Mr. Pemberton was attired in the conventional black, 
with white vest and tie, and patent-leather boots, supple- 
mented with white kid gloves. Neither wore any jewels, 
except that the illusion puff of Gladys’ dress was held at 
the throat by a tiny brooch of diamonds set in gold, and 
a small solitaire diamond ring glinted on the third finger 
of her left hand. 

Our friends had not been missed from the morning ser- 
vice, owing to the intensely interesting address of Brother 
Baxter. And now, more than one in that vast audience 
asked themselves, “Why did I not think of it?” But 
there was little time for questions, much less for answers. 


274 


GLAD VS 


Mr. Baxter requested the congregation to be seated, and 
when all was quiet, he said, with much feeling : 

“Friends! We often thoughtlessly say, when under 
the excitement of unusual circumstances, ‘This exceeds 
anything of the kind I ever saw before. ’ But I must say, 
and I say it with truth, and a perfect remembrance of all 
like experiences of my life, that my visits to you have been 
unique in their results beyond all comparison. There are 
many here, doubtless, who remember how, four years ago, 
and at my first visit, my friend and brother and his dear 
sweetheart, now sitting by me, then took sense, breath and 
sight away from me by asking me to unite them in holy 
matrimony immediately after I had baptized them. Now, 
here comes Brother Pemberton and his bright-eyed angel, 
demanding the same service. I will have to discontinue 
my visits in this vicinity, or my curiosity will undo me 
for wondering what, or who, will come next. I can only 
pray, May the Lord forever bless these dear people who 
love each other so.” 

Mr. Pemberton and Miss Gladys had taken position, 
side by side, in front of the preacher, and were supported 
by the groomsmen and bridesmaids. 

The ceremony was short and solemnly impressive. When 
the Elder concluded, in the customary words: “In the 
presence of God and these witnesses, I pronounce you 
Man and Wife. Those whom God hath joined together, 
let no man put asunder,” there were happy tears and con- 
gratulations ; for Pemberton and Gladys were almost idol- 
ized by their numerous friends. 

Elder Baxter continued the meeting for two weeks, 
with the aid of Mr. Pemberton, who was appointed an 


GLADYS 


275 


elder in the Linwood congregation at a church meeting on 
Monday following his marriage. Mr. Baxter, at the close 
of the services, bade the friends good-bye, with many 
regrets and good wishes on their part. He was also very 
substantially remembered in the way of goodly donations, 
not of rocking chairs, hair-cloth sofas, and bric-a-brac, 
etc., etc., but in that medium of exchange adopted by civ- 
ilization, which pays grocery bills, buys needful apparel 
and aids as ammunition to scare the wolf from the door. 

Our story is told. Our characters are not perfect. None 
on earth are. But if each reader will be as true to his or 
her conscience, and the lights before him or her, as was 
Gladys Gordon, this erring old world will be none the 
worse for it. 


CHAPTER XX. 


FOOT PRINTS. 

We can make our lives sublime; 

And, departing, leave behind us 

Foot prints on the sands of time. 

— Longfellow, “A Psalm of Life.” 

I wandered as a tramp in all quarters of the habitable 
earth. I marked with my bare feet the tropical sands, 
and pressed the rawhide shoon in the snows of opposite 
frozen climes. In 


“ — mystical India, 

Where the deities hive and swarm, 
Like wild bees in the tree tops; 

Or the gusts of a gathering storm,” 

and in “ Darkest Africa, ” where 

“ — the dark unspeakable feasts” 


have scorched and charred the souls of her dusky sons 
and daughters, until the lineaments of innocence have be- 
come seared over with the black furrows of beastly cruelty, 
I have wandered, homeless and lonely, under the spell of 
a despair born of a belief in the utter and total depravity 


GLADYS 


277 


of the human heart. Through cities where mansions fit for 
the homes of angels reared their majestic proportions, I 
have walked the streets which were lighted from win- 
dows by chandeliers that, to my hungry eyes, seemed 
bright and beautiful enough to pale the glory in the gar- 
dens of God. In cathedrals, built in ye olden time, I have 
heard peals from the organ ’s soul, drawn by master hands, 
that, to my weary ears, were sweet enough to drown an 
angel anthem. In all the wide, wide world I have seen 
poor, besotted, rotting elfs, in human form, in the very 
blaze of the glory, and sniffing with nostrils wide, beneath 
murderous eyes, the odor of princely revels. I asked of 
these kingly and queenly ones of earth that question asked 
by God of Cain, “ Where is Abel, thy brother?” 

The reply had been, without blush of shame, but with 
the soullessness of guilt and crime, 4 'Am I my brother’s 
keeper?” And with a withering sneer they turned from 
me. 

I tramped by the side of the ‘ ‘ Immaterial Man ’ ’ in Aus- 
tralia. I dogged his footsteps in Europe, and in each 
country ate the food that came from his hand, free as the 
water which flows in my own native mountain rills. I 
left him there, because his goodness and kindness con- 
troverted my dogma that no man was honest and no 
woman was pure and that unmixed selfishness was the 
mainspring of all human action. Two score of years 
bleached my hair, furrowed my cheeks, dimmed my eyes, 
and enfeebled my limbs. Fever struck me with its hot 
breath, and I sank at the roadside, repeating over and 
over the one word, ‘'Annihilation! Annihilation!” This 
was my prayer. 


278 


GLADYS 


There came, and took me by the hand, a glorious form 
like unto the image of my mother. Strength was with me, 
and I stood upon my feet. She placed a chalice to my lips, 
and the draught was cooling as ambrosia. I asked her 
name, and she said she was “The Angel of the Good,” 
and her name was known only in heaven ; and it was writ- 
ten on a White Stone, but no one could read it but herself, 
and she not till she received the stone. I had heard the 
minister, in my boyhood days, speak of the White Stone 
on which a new name was written. I remember it now. 
She placed her hand on my hot forehead, and its touch 
was like the breath of life from Elysian climes. She said, 
“Come!” 

And we stood by the bedside of a pale little boy whose 
eyes were closing in death. The mother was kneeling by 
him, thanking her Father in Heaven for sending the sweet, 
beautiful Gladys Pemberton to smooth her darling’s dying 
pillow. The Angel of the Good pointed to the floor, and 
there on the rough boards was a seraph’s footprint, that 
shone like a star on the bosom of night. 

Again she said, “Come!” 

And we stood in a lowly cabin, and a great rough man 
knelt, trying to soothe, with his horny hand, the flushed 
brow of his suffering wife. He said: “Be patient, dar- 
ling. Gladys Pemberton will be here soon, and I know 
she can give you something that will help you. And Doc- 
tor Greydone will send you some medicine. She never 
fails us or disappoints us when we need her.” 

The woman smiled feebly, and said: 


GLADYS 


279 


“She is good! Even when we drank, and were very- 
unlovely, she was kind to us. I want to meet her in 
heaven. ’ * 

“And so do I. And we will, darling,” said the great 
rough man. “Ah ! I hear her voice now. I knew she would 
come. God bless her!” 

We stood silent until the visitor had departed. The 
Angel of the Good pointed to her retreating footsteps, and 
I saw their prints studded with gems that would have pur- 
chased a world. The Angel smiled, and again said, 
“Come!” 

And now we stood where ribald songs rent the air, and 
the breath of hell scorched the souls of those who leaned 
over the bar, to drink the damning curse of a world. A 
youth was there with 

“Eyes of the cerulean hue 
And brow most strangely fair.” 

The Angel pointed to the door, and I saw the mother 
of the boy enter, leaning on the arm of Gladys Pemberton. 
They took the youth by the arm, and passed out. We fol- 
lowed, and heard him say: 

“Mother, by my hopes of heaven, I will never touch the 
accursed cup again!” 

The Angel pointed to the earth over which they passed, 
and I saw, 0 wonderful to tell! the lilies springing into 
bloom where her footfalls had pressed the sod. 

But the Angel said, “Come!” 

And we stood where there was one who 


'Once was as pure as the snow, but she fell — 
Fell like the snowflake, from heaven to hell!” 


280 


GLADYS 


I saw Gladys Pemberton standing by the side of that 
weeping, betrayed one, and heard her say: 

“Let us go to a new place, among new people, and there 
commence the new life you have lost.” 

The weeping one replied : 

“ 0 ! I have no means to go anywhere ! ’ ’ 

Then I saw a purse placed in her hand, and the donor 
said : 

“God is merciful, and Jesus died for you and for me. 
Come and serve Him, and He will love you and bless you 
and save you.” 

And they went out, and there were glories about the 
path they trod brighter than the noon-day sun. 

“Come!” Again it sounded in my ear. 

And we stood in the log cabin of an old Indian on the 
bank of the Illinois River. He sat stolid and listless, but 
ever and anon his eyes wandered to the cabin door, and 
in them was an expectant look. In a little while the door 
opened and Gladys Pemberton, with her husband, entered. 
The Indian said: 

“White squaw good to come. Little Injin gone to catch 
rabbit for mother dinner. Since white squaw come other 
time, medsine do heap good. Little Injin mother hungry. 
Wolf bit foot,” holding out his foot, “and In jin can’t go 
for rabbit. Little Injin git him. Mother eat and be well.” 

Gladys walked to the poor bed where lay the sick squaw 
and asked if she felt better. 

“Yes. Better, heap!” said the woman. 

“I have brought you some lemons and apples and a box 
of crackers; also some sugar. Do not get up until you 
are well. You might get worse.” 


GLADYS 


281 


“White squaw good. Injin won’t forget. Tell more 
about Jesus.” 

Gladys sat down and told the sick one how Jesus loved 
those who were good and kind, and wanted everybody to 
live like brothers and sisters, and not tell lies and say bad 
words; and then, if we were good and obeyed Him, He 
would take us to the beautiful spirit land, where we would 
not be ill or sorrowful, and we would live there forever; 
that there would be no more death or cold winters or 
scorching summers, but only the lovely beauties of ever- 
lasting spring. 

The woman said: 

“It is good. Since you first told of Jesus, we bought no 
more firewater, and we love heap. And we love little boy 
better. ’ ’ 

They rose to go, and the old Indian said : 

“Wait!” 

He drew from his belt a purse, and offered it to Gladys. 

“No! no!” said she. “I come because I loved to help 
you, and not for money. Keep it, and send the little boy 
to school, where he can learn to read in this book about 
Jesus,” handing him a New Testament, “Teach him to 
be good and sober and honest. This is all I wish.” 

The old Indian reached his hand for a farewell, which 
the two visitors took warmly. And they were gone. The 
Angel of the Good motioned me to look at the foot prints 
where the visitors passed away from the cabin, and I saw 
them shaded with the lowly plant called Life Everlasting. 

Accustomed, now, to the call, we changed places again. 
And we were standing in an audience which was listening 
to Charles Pemberton as he told that same old story of 


282 


GLADYS 


Jesus and His love. When he had closed I was startled to 
see the old Indian and his squaw, leading their boy, some 
thirteen years old, to the preacher. Gladys was standing 
by her husband’s side, and her eyes filled with glad tears. 
The three Indians — father, mother, and son — gave the 
minister their hands; and when the invitation song was 
ended the old man said: 

“Injins want white squaw’s Jesus to be theirs, too. The 
Great Spirit took him from the grave when he was dead, 
and made him alive. He die no more. We believe it. We 
do no more bad. We sorry for bad done. Want to go 
with white squaw to heaven. Want baptize.” 

The minister could scarcely speak for his emotions. 
Gladys was in an ecstacy of thankfulness. Pemberton 
looked questioningly at the boy. The Indian caught his 
glance, and said: 

“He know. He read it in this,” and he held Gladys’ 
gift up before the preacher. 

The boy took the book and turned to the sixteenth chap- 
ter and sixteenth verse of Matthew’s Gospel, and read 
slowly : 

“ ‘And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the 
Christ, the Son of the living God.’ ” Closing the book, 
he looked at Gladys lovingly, as he continued: “I say 
that, too.” 

A dozen voices exclaimed, “God bless the boy!” 

The Angel of the Good took me by the hand, and we 
walked down to the water and saw these children of the 
forest made morally “whiter thhn snow” by the obedi- 
ence of faith. 


GLADYS 


283 


And the prints of her little feet on the greensward, as 
she walked by the side of the Indian woman, were beau- 
tiful as the finger marks of God on the human soul. 

But the Angel said, ‘ ‘ Come ! ’ ’ 

And we sat at the door of a tattered and torn old tent 
by the road side, wherein lay and moaned a negro woman 
in the last stages of consumption. Three little picanninies 
played in the dust in the road, and one, a girl of twelve 
years, ignorantly tried to wait on and comfort her dying 
mother. 

4 ‘Bless de Lawd!” whispered the sick one. “Dar cum 
dat sweet Miss Gladys. When she cum to hebben she fin’ 
me dar waitin’ fo’ her.” 

Gladys came into the tent, and spoke cheerfully: 

“Talitha, I have brought you some nice, cool, sweet 
milk and a block of ice to make you some lemonade. Here 
are the lemons. How are you feeling today?” 

“Mighty poo’ly, honey (coughing), mighty poo’ly. 
You’s a doin’ too much fo’ yo’ strength, dis hot weather 
(cough). Hain’t long to stay, nohow, an’ (cough) I’ll 
git ’long. Doan try to run (cough) arter us poo’ folks 
so much (cough). You war’ yo’se’f out (cough).” 

“0 never mind that ! I am all right. Here, Pearl ! (She 
did not look like a pearl — she was very black.) Get a 
glass — a nice clean one. You must keep everything clean 
for your sick mother. I will make the lemonade. It will 
help the couglp may be. Hand me another glass for the 
milk. There! That is all right. Now drink the milk; 
and you can take a spoonful of the lemonade along as you 
like. I must go now. Good-bye.” 

“Good-bye (cough).” 


284 


GLADYS 


As she walked to her carriage she passed the three little 
black children, who were standing respectfully to one 
side of the path, waiting for her to go by. 

“Children,” said she, “do not be noisy in your play. 
Perhaps your poor mama can sleep some.” 

“We won’t. Sank ’ee,” chorused they. 

The Angel pointed to the path, and the touch of the 
almoner’s feet had changed its hot stones to a cool marble 
highway, with here and there a shimmer of gold from the 
streets of the Celestial City. 

“Come!” 

There were hot, profane, sulphury words bandied back 
and forth between two young men who stood facing each 
other, with pistols drawn and cocked. Friends were mak- 
ing every effort to prevent a tragedy, but it seemed that 
nothing would avail. All had about concluded to step 
aside and let the worst come. At this instant a little, 
willowy form stepped between the combatants, and a voice, 
clear and disinct as a silver bell, rang on the air: 

“Wait a moment!” It was Gladys speaking. “If you 
fire now, I will stand between you, and you will kill me ! 
Let me say one word. Then I will step aside, and you may 
kill each other if you wish. Is this difference between you 
•two of sufficient import to be valued at the sacrifice of 
one, perhaps two, human lives? If it is, I will wait and 
see that the dead are carried and laid at the feet of the 
mothers who love you. If one of you survives, he must 
go with me on this sad errand to the dead one’s mother. 
Keep this in your minds, now, and kill each other if you 
wish.” 


GLADYS 


285 


She stepped aside. Both young men gazed at her with 
tearful eyes, and, as if acting at a signal, threw their 
weapons to the ground. Each extended a hand to the 
other, and many a voice shouted, “Thank God!” 

I looked at the spot where stood the beautiful mediator, 
and, pressed into the earth in the form of two tiny foot- 
prints, I read in letters of living light, “Blessed are the 
peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.” 

“Come!” 

There were hot words and angry retorts between man 
and wife. Incompatibles, in the frenzy of youthful emo- 
tion, had plighted troths which wisdom would have avoid- 
ed, and were now reaping the harvest of a life of conten- 
tion. Their marital voyage had, thus far, been on a tem- 
pestuous sea, and loud threats were made of scuttling the 
bark and each end their life tour alone, on the waves, 
drifting as drift might be. Gladys Pemberton’s carriage 
drove up, for they were both members of the congregation 
her husband ministered to, and, in an angry mood, the 
wife threatened to inform the minister’s wife of the state 
of affairs. 

“I shall be glad of it, and will aid you in the recital,” 
said the husband. 

“I’ll do it,” retorted the wife, and as the word passed 
her lips Gladys entered the door. 

“Good morning. What is it you are going to do, dear?” 
she asked ; for it was evident from the scowl on each face 
that something was wrong, and seriously so. 

“Well,” said the woman, “I had just as well tell you, 
for you will hear of it any way.” And she proceeded 
with a sad plaint of ill-nature on the part of her husband. 


286 


GLADYS 


He sat silent and moody, and it was plain that the wife ’s 
story was cut short and greatly modified by his silence. 
When she had finished, Gladys turned to him and said : 

4 ‘I would be greatly pleased to see your affairs so ad- 
justed that confidence could be restored between you. 
Will you give me a statement from your point of view?” 

He did not speak for several minutes. She waited his 
pleasure, and he finally remarked: 

“I do not think it the proper thing to do, to air our 
differences. But I suppose what I may say will not do 
further harm.” 

From his statement the listener learned that he was a 
man of quick temper, and thoughtless of his wife ’s wishes, 
but not intentionally bad. After hearing him, Gladys 
said: 

“I believe you both respect me, and would willingly do 
me a favor, if you could.” 

This was assented to by man and wife. 

“Then,” she continued, “tell me if you both will do me 
the favor to give my advice a trial for six months?” 

Both promised. 

“On that promise, I ask, remember, as a favor to me, 
that neither of you ever refer to any past incident that is 
disagreeable to the other. Further, that neither of you 
ever say or do anything in the presence of the other that 
is disagreeable. And last, but not least, always try to do 
and say that which is pleasant and agreeable. If either 
of you fail, apologize in a loving way, and ‘try again.’ 
This will, at times, be hard and difficult, but, with God’s 
help, it can be done. And I will add,” said she, after a 
moment’s thought, and her eyes grew tender and soft 


GLADYS 


287 


with tears, as she looked from one to the other, “another 
injunction. 0, for the great love of God, try prayerfully 
and earnestly to learn to feel towards each other again as 
you felt when you reveled in love’s young dream, in the 
morning of your lives, when you were so happy in each 
other’s company.” 

She gave to each her hand, and said good-bye. 

Neither of them could speak. 

I turned my eyes to the Angel of the Good, and she 
pointed to the footprints along the walkway, and they 
were strewn with the small white flowers of the olea Eu- 
ropea rose — emblem of faithfulness and silence. 

I slept. 

I awoke, and several men were in the room. I asked 
where I was, and was told that I was at Linwood Rest; 
that I must not talk, for I had been very ill ; that the mis- 
tress of Linwood had found me delirious at the roadside 
on the mountain, and had brought me to her home. 

Presently the lady came to me, and smiled, and said : 

“You are better. You will get well. No, do not talk — 
you are too weak.” 

Her features were the features of the Angel of the Good, 
and I remembered all my delirious wanderings. I had 
heard, in my long hours of insomnia, the watchers tell how 
Gladys Pemberton, like a good angel, had done the deeds 
I have related of the Angel of the Good. I made, in my 
fantastic mental aberrations, these acts a parts of my own 
experience. 

When I was convalescent, one day, I knelt by the sofa, 
where I had been sitting, and prayed: 


288 


GLADYS 


0 Lord, ‘ I have sinned against heaven and in Thy sight. ’ 
Let me plead the agony of a crucified Savior for mercy. 
Let me plead His love for the pardon of my dark, dark 
sins. Teach Thou me to walk in the valley of humiliation 
the remainder of my days. Then, the Lord, perchance, out 
of His great and infinite pity, will be merciful to me, a 
wretched sinner.” 

1 felt a hand laid on my head, and heard a sweet voice 
say: 

“Amen!” 

A man stood by the side of the speaker, who was a 
woman. He was her husband, Charles Pemberton, and 
she was 

GLADYS, THE ANGEL OF THE GOOD. 


POSTLUDIUM. 


THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD. 

The Church and the World walked far apart, 

On the changing shore of Time; 

The World was singing a giddy song, 

And the Church a hymn sublime. 

“Come, give me your hand,” cried the merry World, 
“And walk with me this way.” 

But the good Church hid her snowy hand, 

And solemnly answered, “Nay!” 

“I will not give you my hand at all; 

And I will not walk with you: 

Your way is the way to endless death; 

Your words are all untrue.” 

“Nay! Walk with me but a little space,” 

Said the World, with a kindly air. 

“The road I travel is a pleasant road, 

And the sun shines always there.” 

“Your path is rough and thorny and rude; 

Mine is broad and plain. 

My path is strewn with flowers and gems, 

And yours with tears and pain. 

My path you see is a broad, fair one; 

And my gate is high and wide. 

There’s room enough for you and for me 
To travel side by side.” 


290 


GLADYS 


Half shyly the Church approached the World, 

And gave him her hand of snow. 

The old World grasped it and walked along, 

Saying in accents low: 

“Your dress is too simple to please my taste; 

I will give you pearls to wear, 

Rich velvets and silks for your graceful form, 

And diamonds to deck your hair.” 

The Church looked down at her plain white robe, 
And then at the dazzling World, 

And blushed, as she saw his handsome lip, 

With a smile contemptuous curled. 

“I will change my dress for a costlier one,” 

Said the Church, with a smile of grace. 

Then her pure white garments drifted away. 

And the World gave in their place 

Beautiful satins, and shining silks, 

And roses, and gems, and pearls; 

And over her forehead her bright hair fell, 

Crisped in a thousand curls. 

“Your house is too plain,” said the proud old World; 
“I’ll build you one like mine: 

Carpets of Brussels and curtains of lace 
And furniture ever so fine.” 

So he built a costly and beautiful home — 

Splendid it was to behold. 

Her sons and her beautiful daughters dwelt there, 
Gleaming in purple and gold. 

Fairs and shows in the halls were held; 

And the World and his children were there; 

And laughter and music and feast were heard 
In the place that was meant for prayer. 


GLADYS 


291 


She had cushioned pews, for the rich and great 
To sit, in their pomp and pride; 

While the poor folks, clad in their shabby suits. 

Sat meekly down outside. 

The Angel of Mercy flew over the Church, 

And whispered, “I know thy sin!” 

The Church looked back, with a sigh, and longed 
To gather her children in. 

But some were off at the midnight ball; 

And some were off at play; 

And some were drinking in gay saloons; 

So she quietly went her way. 

The sly World gallantly said to her, 

“Your children mean no harm — 

Merely indulging in innocent sports.” 

So she leaned on his proffered arm. 

And smiled, and chatted, and gathered flowers, 

As she walked along with the World, 

While millions and millions of deathless souls 
To the horrible pit were hurled. 

“Your preachers are too old and plain,” 

Said the gay old World, with a sneer; 

“They frighten my children with dreadful tales 
Which I like not for them to hear. 

“They talk of brimstone, and fire, and pain, 

And the horrors of endless night; 

They talk of a place that should not be 
Mentioned to ears polite. 

I will send you some of a better stamp — 

Brilliant, and gay, and fast — 

Who will tell them that people may live as they list, 
And go to Heaven at last. 


292 


GLADYS 


“The Father is merciful, great, and good, 

Tender, and true, and kind: 

Do you think He would take one child to Heaven 
And leave the rest behind? 

You give too much to the poor,” said the World, 
“Far more than you ought to do: 

If the poor need shelter and food and clothes. 
Why need it trouble you? 


“Go, take your money, and buy rich robes. 
And horses and carriages fine, 

And pearls and jewels and dainty food 
And the rarest and costliest wine. 

My children, they dote on all such things, 
And, if you their love would win, 

5fou must do as they do, and walk in the ways 
That they are walking in.” 


Then the Church held tight to the strings of her purse, 
And gracefully lowered her head, 

And simpered, “I’ve given too much away; 

I’ll do, sir, as you have said.” 

So the poor were turned from her door in scorn, 
And she heard not the orphan’s cry; 

And she drew her beautiful robes aside 
As the widows went weeping by. 

And the sons of the World and the sons of the Church 
Walked closely hand and heart; 

And only the Master, who knoweth all, 

Could tell the two apart. 

And the Church sat down at her ease, and said, 

“I am rich, and in goods increased; 

I have need of nothing, and naught to do 
But to laugh and dance and feast.” 


GLADYS 


293 


And the sly World heard her, and laughed In his sleeve, 
And mockingly said, aside: 

“The Church is fallen — the beautiful Church; 

And her shame is her boast and pride.” 

The Angel drew near to the Mercy seat. 

And whispered, in sighs, her name; 

And the saints their anthems of rapture hushed, 

And covered their heads in shame. 

And a voice came down through the hush of Heaven, 
From Him who sat on the throne: 

“I know thy works and how thou hast said, 

‘I am rich,’ and hast not known 

That thou art naked and poor and blind 
And wretched before my face; 

Therefore from my presence I cast thee out, 

And blot thy name from its place.” 

— Matilda E. Edwards. 






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